Shooting Star
by Sandysha
Summary: 2nd in the Pistolero Series: Johnny and the Lancer family are trying to adjust to life after the events in the Pistolero. Johnny's reputation is put to the test more often than anyone would like. Scott's grandfather, Harlan Garrett, pays his first visit to Lancer. The stories is also found on the Lancerlover website.


*I don't own them. Wish I did.

** A/R My Johnny is 18 and Scott is 22. Harlan Garrett has yet to visit Lancer for the first

time.

** Many thanks to Alice Marie, Susan, and Diana for helping with the beta. Thanks to Rosey for her input.

..

**SHOOTING STAR**

**By SandySha**

**..**

**Second in the 'Pistolero Series'**

_.. _

"Madrid!"

And there it was; another beautiful day shot to hell.

Johnny grimaced at the sound of the name he'd grown to hate. It was like the recurring nightmare he'd had months ago, only now the men's faces weren't a blur, and the town was always Green River.

"Madrid!"

Stepping from the Mercantile, Scott now stood frozen in place, his eyes going first to Johnny and then to the man standing in the middle of the street. He had hoped this trip to town for supplies would be different, but for the third time in as many weeks someone was calling his brother out.

Knowing Scott was out of the line of fire, Johnny looked at Frank and Jose. The two men were standing next to the wagon, rifles in hand.

A slight shake of his head warned them off.

It was Cipriano who had first christened Walt, Frank, Jose, Juan, and Joe, the 'chosen.' Since the day of the gunfights at the ranch, four months earlier, Murdoch had entrusted Cipriano and those five men to watch over his youngest son.

Murdoch and Cipriano still insisted that at least two of the 'chosen' were close, even when Johnny was with one of the family. In the beginning, Johnny balked at having the men with him. Now, he was relieved to know there was always someone he could trust watching his back.

Sighing, Johnny turned to get his first looked at the man he would shortly send to his grave.

"Madrid!" the gunfighter called out again.

"Yeah."

"I'm calling you out, Madrid!"

"I figured," Johnny answered, resigning himself to the inevitable.

Johnny glanced at the wagon that still needed loading. He knew he wouldn't feel like finishing the job once he'd taken the man down. Having already returned twice with half-filled wagons, he knew Murdoch wouldn't appreciate it happening a third time.

Scott moved down the boardwalk until he was near the front of the wagon. He knew he shouldn't interfere, but couldn't help himself.

"Excuse me," Scott spoke up, holding up both hands.

Frowning, Johnny's eyes narrowed but never left the other gunfighter.

"Stay out of this, Scott."

Ignoring his brother, Scott took a few steps, getting closer to the edge of the boardwalk.

"Sir, I know you have business with John, but he does need to get the wagon loaded. Is there a chance you could delay the altercation you have planned for a few minutes?"

Scott finished with a smile on his face; then turned to look at his still frowning brother.

"John, you know Murdoch won't be happy if we don't bring back all the supplies. I'm sure the young man wouldn't mind waiting," Scott turned to look expectantly at gunfighter, "would you?"

Johnny hated it when Scott called him 'John.' He sounded too much like Murdoch.

The young gunfighter cocked his head, giving Scott a puzzled look.

"What the hell did he just say?" the gunfighter drawled, confusion written all over his face.

Without missing a beat, Johnny answered in a matter of fact voice.

"He wants to know if you would give us time to load the wagon before I kill you?"

"What?" Startled, the gunfighter started to laugh and then realized what Madrid had said.

Using his left hand, Johnny repositioned his hat on his head.

"Look, I don't mind 'dancing,' but I really gotta' get this wagon loaded first. If I don't come back with these supplies, my old man is gonna' blister my backside."

The gunfighter didn't know what to say. He'd never had another gunhawk want to delay the 'dance' before. Looking at Madrid and then at the blond man, the man lowered his head.

"_Well, damn,"_ he thought. _"Madrid's afraid of his old man."_

"That alright with you?" Johnny asked cocking his head.

"I'll wait," the gunfighter finally answered. "How long you figure it's gonna' take?"

Johnny looked at the supplies that still needed to be loaded and then back at the gunfighter. Before he could answer, Scott did it for him.

"Perhaps 30 minutes. You know," Scott added, "if you help it wouldn't take as long."

Johnny almost laughed at the expression on the gunfighter's face.

The man frowned. Holding off on the 'dance' was one thing; doing manual labor was another.

"That's alright," he grumbled, "I'll be waiting in the saloon."

Johnny and Scott watched the young man turn and walk away, shaking his head and glancing over his shoulder a couple of times as he went.

Scott took a deep breath and let it out.

"Boston, you have more balls than any man I've ever met," Johnny laughed, hitting Scott's back with his hat.

"At least we've bought some time," Scott said turning toward the store. "I was serious when I said Murdoch wouldn't be happy if we didn't bring back the supplies. You know it's getting ridiculous that you can't even set foot in town without someone calling you out?"

Johnny lowered his head and put both hands on the wagon wheel. "I know. Wish I knew how to make it stop."

Scott sighed. He wished there was something he could do. It had been two months since Johnny had faced seven gunfighters in Green River. Their lives hadn't been the same since.

The gunfighters that rode out of Green River that day wasted no time in spreading the word of what happened and where to find Johnny Madrid. Scott knew that the gunfights during the last two weeks, and the one that was about to happen, were just the beginning.

"Come on, little brother," Scott said putting a hand on the back of Johnny's neck. "Let's get this done."

While Scott, Johnny, and Frank loaded the wagon, Jose stood guard. It took every bit of thirty minutes to complete the task.

Looking around, Johnny saw the gunfighter stepping out of the saloon. From the other direction, Val Crawford was marching toward him with a determined look on his face.

Johnny shook his head. Things kept getting better and better. What he didn't need right then was Val breathing down his neck.

"Val." Johnny raised a hand in greeting.

"Understand there's a fellow over at the saloon waiting for you to get this wagon loaded," Val scowled, stepping down from the boardwalk.

The young gunfighter had strolled into the saloon telling everyone that he'd called out Johnny Madrid. When the bartender asked what happened, the gunfighter told them about the blond headed fellow wanting him to hold off on the gunfight while Madrid got a wagon loaded. That got a laugh out of everyone in the saloon. It hadn't taken long for the word to get back to Val.

"Yeah," Johnny answered, looking at Scott. "Scott figured we'd better get the wagon loaded before I faced him. We just finished."

"This is the third time this month," Val grumbled.

"I know how many times it is, Val," Johnny snapped. "Of everyone here, I know better than any of you."

Val gave him one of his 'don't use that tone of voice with me' looks.

Val turned toward the saloon. "That him?"

"That's him," Johnny replied as he straightened his hat. "Guess I better get to it. Got to get this wagon home."

Johnny slid the Colt out of his holster, checking the cylinder. Something that wasn't necessary, but an old habit that had served him well over the years.

"Johnny…," Scott hesitated.

Johnny saw the look in his brother's eyes and nodded. That one look from Scott spoke volumes.

"I'll be back in a minute." Turning to Frank and Jose, Johnny asked, "You two want to go ahead with the wagon?"

"Nope," Frank answered with a sharp shake of his head. "Boss said to stay with you. No way we're going back without you."

Johnny smiled faintly, nodded his understanding. He knew that all of the 'chosen' had at one time, or another had the conversation with Murdoch about leaving him alone.

The main street of Green River was quiet. Most of the people in town had cleared the boardwalk and were now hiding inside, peeking around curtains or through store windows. The men that had been in the saloon were standing out front, waiting to see who would be standing when the smoke cleared.

Johnny waited while the other gunfighter claimed his place in the street. The sun was high enough that neither man would have to worry about it.

Sighing, Johnny started walking. The sound of ringing spurs broke the still air. Stopping 30 feet from the gunfighter, setting his feet apart, right hand brushing his holster, Johnny got a closer look at the man.

"_They just keep getting younger," _Johnny thought_. _ Silently he chuckled. Hell, he was only 18 himself, even if he felt like he was forty.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Bob Lee and I'm no kid," the young man answered, positioning himself.

"If you say so," Johnny huffed. "So, Lee what makes you think you can take me?"

Johnny was still hoping to convince the boy to walk away.

"Don't 'think' Madrid," the young man grinned. "I **know** I can take you."

"There's no way to talk you out of this?"

"Enough talk, Madrid. I've waited like you wanted." The young gunfighter looked to his left, seeing Val standing on the boardwalk. "The Sheriff gonna' be a problem?"

Johnny answered, not taking his eyes off of Lee, "The Sheriff's not gonna' be a problem. If you're still standing when this is over; you can ride out."

What Johnny didn't say was how far Lee would get. He was sure that between Val, Scott, Frank, and Jose, the kid would be dead by the time the sun set.

Taking a deep breath, Johnny closed his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them, Johnny Lancer had vanished, and Johnny Madrid stood in his place. Blue eyes were now cold and hard; his face darkened.

Lee saw the transformation. His confidence faltered for a moment. Wasn't this why he'd come? He came to face the great John Madrid. Well, he was about to get his wish.

Johnny saw a flicker of indecision cross the boy's face. As fast as it had appeared, it was gone. It was at that moment Johnny knew there was no turning back.

Johnny waited for the 'tell.'

It was over in a heartbeat. The sound of one gunshot seemed to resound off the surrounding buildings before finally fading away.

Lee had made the first move, and like so many before, was dead before his gun cleared leather.

The faint smell of gunpowder lingered in the air as Johnny slowly walked over to the man on the ground. Kneeling, he reached out a hand, closing Lee's now lifeless eyes. Holstering his gun, he saw first Val, and then Scott step off the boardwalk and start toward him.

Scott put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Johnny, come on; let's go home."

Nodding, Johnny stood up.

"Go on, amigo," Val said. "I'll take care of Lee. I'll come out to see you later."

Frank and Jose somberly climbed into the wagon while Scott and Johnny made their way back to their horses. Swinging into the saddle, Johnny waited for Scott; waving Frank to move on. As the wagon rolled down the street, the brothers followed.

Passing the body on the ground, Johnny pulled his hat down over his eyes, looking straight ahead.

..********

Jack Belcher stood in front of the hotel, watching the Lancers ride past. He'd just watched his first gunfight and could honestly say he'd been more than a little impressed by the outcome of the confrontation. He'd been watching the dark-haired boy, and the speed with which he'd drawn and fired his gun was nothing less than amazing.

Belcher looked along the dusty street and shook his head. Three weeks ago, he'd been relaxing at home when he'd received word that an old employer wanted to see him. He'd been surprised by the summons, but curiosity and lack of funds made him take the meeting. Five hours later, he was packed, and on a train headed west.

It had been 22 years since he'd last been in California. He was pleasantly surprised that the town of Green River was here now and that it had a comfortable hotel. Twenty-two years ago, the only towns in the area were Morro Coyo and Spanish Wells, both small and both equally as dirty.

Belcher knew he wouldn't be here now if Matt Wilson had done his job, but Wilson was dead, and the job was uncompleted.

Belcher walked over to the three men he'd just hired.

"That's them," Belcher said nodding toward Scott and Johnny as they rode out of town. "Remember the blond-haired man is not to be harmed under any circumstances. No one gets hurt until I say so, especially him. Do you understand?"

"You didn't say anything about going up against Johnny Madrid," the first hired gun growled, shaking his head.

"Dunbar, what you'll be doing won't be face to face," Belcher smiled.

"I don't know about this," Dunbar grumbled. "Face-to-face or not, Madrid isn't someone we want to be messin' with. We heard about him facing down those gunfighters a couple of months ago."

Belcher frowned and without hesitation, "I'll double the amount I'm paying you."

The three men thought for a second and then eagerly nodded their agreement. Dunbar, Cameron, and Bleeker were already getting more than they ever thought they would get for a job.

"So, you want us to stir things up out there but don't hurt anyone until you've told us to," Dunbar repeated his orders. "We understand. You understand, though, if Madrid or anyone else catches on to what we're doing, then someone is gonna' get hurt."

Belcher thought for a moment. "If that happens, do what you have to do, especially if it's to Madrid. The only one who is off limits is Scott Lancer."

..********

It wasn't long after leaving town that Johnny spurred Barranca, shooting past the wagon.

Frank turned in the wagon seat to look back at Scott.

"It's alright," Scott called out, kicking Remmie. "I'll stay with him. Keep going; we'll catch up."

Scott followed the road until he saw fresh tracks heading off to the right. Following the trail, he knew where his brother was going. It wasn't long before he heard the soft murmur of flowing water.

Scott pulled back on Remmie's reins and watched for a few minutes. Johnny was on his knees near the stream, his hat lying next to him. Scott knew his brother was throwing up; something he'd witnessed many times.

When Johnny finally sat back on his heels, Scott rode forward; making sure he made enough noise so Johnny would know he was there.

Dismounting, Scott ground tying Remmie before slowly walking forward. The sun was reflecting off the water throwing prisms of light on the surrounding area as Scott sat beside his brother.

Looking out over the gently moving water, Scott didn't say anything. He waited for Johnny to speak first. Scott knew what his brother was experiencing. He also knew that every gunfight took a physical toll on the younger man.

Johnny pushed himself up and walked to the stream's edge. Going down on both knees, he splashed water on his face and neck.

Raising his head, Johnny sighed as he looked out over the water and the green grass beyond it.

"Frank and Jose taking the wagon on ahead?" Johnny spoke for the first time as he took a bandana from his pocket and wiped his face.

"Yes," Scott answered. "I told them we'd catch up."

Johnny hung his head and took a deep breath before speaking, "I'm sorry, Scott."

Scott looked at his brother's back and saw the defeated bow to his shoulders.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," Scott said. "You didn't call Lee out. You tried to talk him out of it."

Johnny was silent for a few minutes. When he did speak it was softly, "Lee wouldn't have been in town if it weren't for me."

Scott weighed his answer carefully. "That may be true, but once he was there, he decided to go through with the gunfight. It was Lee's decision, and he had plenty of time to rethink what he was doing."

Scott got to his feet and walked over to stand beside Johnny. Kneeling, he put his arm around Johnny's shoulders and pulled him close.

"Johnny, you can't blame yourself every time someone calls you out. As you've said many times, you don't start a fight, but you will not walk away from one. You're defending yourself, and I thank God every day you have the ability and the talent to do so."

"I don't think God has a lot to do with it, Brother," Johnny shook his head. Water from his wet hair sprayed across the front of Scott, wetting his face and shirt.

"Hey," Scott protested, shrinking back.

Scott reached over and pushed Johnny onto his side. Johnny grabbed his brother around the neck, pulling him to the ground. The two men wrestled and rolled around a few minutes until Scott got the upper hand. Both of them were laughing when Scott straddled Johnny, pinning him to the ground.

Johnny looked up at the laughing face of his older brother.

"Scott, don't ever do that again," the smile slid off of Johnny's face.

"Do what?" Scott replied with a laugh. "Whip your ass?"

"You know what I mean," Johnny relaxed under Scott's gaze. "Don't ever come between me and a gunfight again. We were lucky Lee didn't know you were my brother. He could have killed you just for the hell of it."

Scott frowned and dipped his head.

"Promise me you won't ever do that again." Johnny wasn't going to let it go.

"Johnny…," Scott started to say.

"No, promise me," Johnny implored. "I can't be worrying about you more than I already do."

"Alright, I promise," Scott conceded, releasing his brother's arms.

Johnny took the opportunity to reach up and give Scott a gentle slap on the side of his face.

"Alright, now get the hell off me. We better go catch up with that wagon. It's gonna' be bad enough explaining to the old man, without showing up late."

Scott stood up, extending his hand.

"Need help getting up, little brother?"

Johnny looked up at his brother. Smiling he reached up, taking the offered hand. "Yeah, thanks," he answered as Scott pulled him to his feet.

Johnny picked up his hat and set it on his still wet head. Taking one last look over the meandering stream, he mounted Barranca and fell in beside Scott as they turned their horses toward home. They caught up with the wagon just as Frank and Jose drove under the Lancer arch.

The two men on the wagon breathed a sigh of relief. Neither Frank nor Jose wanted to face Murdoch Lancer if they didn't know where his youngest son was.

..********

Murdoch stepped out of the house. Watching his sons ride in, he said a silent prayer of thanks as the fully loaded wagon passed.

Every time Johnny left his sight, Murdoch found he held his breath and said a prayer. In the last three weeks, his son had gone for supplies three times. Twice he had returned with only a fraction of the supplies and a story that he'd once again been called out.

Scott and Johnny stepped down from the saddle as one of the vaqueros hurried forward to take the horses.

"Thanks, Miguel." Johnny smiled at the young man leading the horses away.

Johnny turned toward his father and saw the smile on the older man's face. He knew the smile wouldn't be there much longer.

"How did things go in town?" Murdoch asked as Johnny started toward him. He didn't like the expression on his youngest son's face.

"We got the supplies," Scott spoke up watching Murdoch's smile fade.

"I see you did. That's good," Murdoch frowned. "John?"

"I had some trouble," Johnny answered not able to look his father in the eye.

"What kind of trouble?" Murdoch asked, already dreading the answer.

"Fellow called me out," Johnny lowered his head, kicking the ground with the toe of his boot.

"Are you alright?" a worried father moved to his son and took him by the shoulders. With his right hand, he lifted Johnny's chin. Murdoch could see the sadness in his son's eyes.

"I'm fine," Johnny answered softly. "Can't say the same about the other fellow."

"Come inside and tell me."

Guiding Johnny toward the French doors, Murdoch looked over his shoulder. Scott shook his head indicating the story would have to wait.

Once inside, Johnny went straight to the drink cart, poured a glass of tequila, and downed it in one gulp. Pouring a second drink, Johnny looked.

"Either of you want one?"

Murdoch shook his head. "No, not yet. Although, I'll probably need one after I hear what happened."

"I can guarantee that," Scott stated, striding across the room, tossing his hat and gloves in the closest chair as he went.

Johnny had already poured a whiskey for his brother, holding it out to him.

"Do you want to tell him, little brother, or should I?" Scott asked taking a sip of his drink.

When Johnny didn't answer right away, Scott took it upon himself to relate the events in town. When he finished, Murdoch found himself also drawn to the drink cart. His hands were shaking as he poured a tall whiskey.

"John, you're sure you're alright?" Murdoch asked again.

"Yeah, I fine."

"Val said he'd be out later," Scott said as he watched his father and brother together.

Murdoch nodded, expecting nothing less. Looking at Johnny's downturned face, he didn't know what to say to make the boy feel better. He was about to speak up when a rap on the French doors drew his attention.

Walt opened the door and stepped in.

"Mr. Lancer, the boy from the telegraph office brought this out." Walt held out a telegram. "It's for Scott."

"Thank you, Walt," Scott said moving across the room, accepting the envelope.

Walt quickly glanced at Johnny before nodding and leaving the room. Frank and Jose had already told the other hands about the gunfight.

Scott sat his drink down and opened the envelope. As he read the telegram, his facial expressions turned from a smile to a frown and back again. He looked up to see Murdoch and Johnny watching him.

"Something important, son?"

Scott picked up his drink and downed it, not sure how his father was going to take this news. Finally, he summoned the courage.

"Yes," Scott answered, "Grandfather is coming to visit. He should be here within the next week."

Scott was watching his father's face, but Murdoch was giving nothing away.

Murdoch downed his drink before speaking, "That's wonderful, son. I'm sure you're anxious to see him."

Johnny watched Murdoch's knuckles whiten as he clutched the glass in his hand.

"Sir," Scott said, "if you feel uncomfortable with him being here, I can make arrangements for him in town."

"Nonsense," Murdoch answered trying to sound convincing, "your grandfather is always welcome here."

"I know you two don't get along," Scott hesitated.

It had been shortly after coming to Lancer that Murdoch had told Scott why he'd never come for him in Boston. It had been hard for Scott to listen to the truths about his grandfather; however, like Murdoch, he decided that regretting the past would accomplish nothing.

What had Murdoch said that first day, _"It's past…bad or good…right or wrong…it's past and gone." _

He, like, Murdoch, had decided to move on, leaving the past behind and reaching only toward the future. That's what Lancer was, after all, a new beginning.

"That's true, Scott, but that's between Harlan and me. I don't want you to feel you can't have guests in your own home," Murdoch replied.

To Johnny's relief, the focus had shifted away from him and redirected to Scott.

Johnny had always wondered about Scott's grandfather. What little he'd gotten from listening to Scott and Murdoch talk about the man, made Johnny wonder if he was going to like the old man or not. There was also the chance that Harlan Garrett wouldn't like Johnny, which didn't bother him.

What did bother Johnny was that Garrett might try to get Scott to go back to Boston with him. That, and that alone would put him at odds with the old man. He had just found his brother; just getting to know him. No one was going to take Scott away from Lancer, or him.

Johnny attention was drawn back to the conversation between his father and brother.

"Did he say how long he planned to stay?" Murdoch asked, praying it wouldn't be an extended visit.

Scott looked at the telegram again and shook his head. "No, he didn't. I'm sure it won't be for long. He seldom leaves his business for any length of time."

"Well then, we'll be ready for his visit… no matter how long it is," Murdoch said, turning in time to see the expression on Johnny's face. He wondered what the boy was thinking.

"Johnny?" Murdoch said, remembering the gunfight. Watching Johnny jump, he laughed, "I didn't mean to startle you, son. I was going to say that you should get cleaned up for dinner. Rest for a while if you want. I'm sure Frank and Jose have taken care of the supplies and the horses."

"Alright," Johnny nodded. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

Johnny turned and headed for the stairs. He was almost to the top when he realized he was still wearing his gun. He hesitated only a moment before continuing.

..********

Dinner was quiet that night. Teresa was visiting friends for the week, so her ever-present chatter was missing, and both Johnny and Scott were closed-mouthed.

Murdoch stole glances at his sons between bites.

Once the meal was over, the three men made their way to the Great Room. Murdoch did the honors of pouring drinks for everyone and then sat down. It was time to talk.

Murdoch was about to start when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it." Scott sat his glass down and stood up. At the same time, he noted Johnny had shifted his right hand to the butt of his Colt. He hadn't noticed his brother wearing his gun during dinner and wondered if Murdoch had.

Scott opened the door to see Val, with hand raised, ready to knock again.

"Val," Scott smiled, stepping aside, "come in. Would you like a drink?"

As Val walked into the Great Room, his eyes went directed to Johnny. He could tell by the way Johnny was sitting that he had already worked through his demons for the day.

Letting out a breath of relief, Val turned to Scott and nodded. "Thanks."

Johnny watched Val take his drink and then walk over to stand in front of the fireplace. He knew Val had come to see if he was alright. It wasn't the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

"Got the undertaker to take care of Lee's body," Val spoke up as he took a sip of his drink. "Didn't find anything on him or in his saddlebags to say where he came from or if he had any kin."

"Lancer will handle the expenses," Murdoch advised.

"I think the town would appreciate that," Val responded. He didn't want to say that the Undertaker was the only one in town happy with the sudden turn of events.

"Hey, Val, guess who's coming to visit?" Johnny spoke up with a grin on his face.

"You mean besides every gunhawk this side of the Mississippi?"

The words were out of Val's mouth before he realized he'd said them. He watched as Murdoch and Scott shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

"Yeah, besides them," Johnny smiled and dipped his head. "Scott's Grandpa is coming to visit."

Val looked at Scott and then Murdoch. "Is that right? Well, dang, Scott, I bet you're looking forward to that."

"Yes, I am," Scott answered with a smile. "It will be good to see Grandfather again."

Murdoch didn't say anything. The room became uncomfortably quiet.

Johnny and Val's eyes met. There was something in Val's eyes that told Johnny there was something more. Something Val hadn't said yet.

Val walked back and forth and then turned to look at Johnny again.

"Well, now that I see you're alright, I guess I'll be going," Val said as he finished his drink and sat the glass down. "Wanna' walk me out?"

Murdoch and Scott looked at each other and then back at Val.

Johnny laughed, "Might as well get it said, Val. Whatever you have to say, you better say it in front of these two or I won't get a moments peace until they know."

"Suppose you're right," Val nodded. "Well, got a telegram this afternoon from the Sherriff over at Cross Creek. He said there were a couple of gunhawks in town asking about you. He figured they'd be in Green River in a few days."

Johnny sat still for several seconds before slowly nodding his head. He had expected more to come, and he was right. The three men he'd already taken down were just the beginning.

Murdoch was watching his son. He could never understand how the boy could remain so calm. Men were coming to try and kill him.

"You'll send word when they're in town?" Johnny said as he stood and walked over to pour another drink.

"Yeah," Val answered, "I'll send word."

"_NO!" Murdoch wanted to yell out. "No, you will not go into town, and you will not face them. If I have to lock you in your room for the rest of your life, you are not going to be in another gunfight." _

That's what Murdoch wanted desperately to say. He wanted to tell his 18-year-old son that he was restricted to the ranch and he would take his gun away from him. There were so many things he wanted to say, but nothing he could say or do would change what was going to happen.

Murdoch had accepted the fact that his son was a gunfighter. Not just any gunfighter. His son was Johnny Madrid, and there was no one faster than he was with a gun. At least for now. The thought of someone faster coming along made Murdoch sick to his stomach.

Murdoch stood and walked to the window behind his desk, looking out over the land he had worked and bled for.

"Val, Scott and John are going to be working on the bridge on the east range. It should take them several days to complete the repairs," Murdoch announced without turning around. "Can you… persuade the two gunfighters to either move on or …?"

"Murdoch, I can try to explain to them that they're in for a long wait. Don't know how much good that will do though," Val answered.

"You're not gonna' do anything," Johnny jumped up and moved to the center of the room. "I'll meet them in town when they get there."

"John…," Murdoch turned to face Johnny.

"No, Murdoch. Val could get caught up in the middle of this and end up dead. There ain't no way in hell I'm letting that happen. Not to him. I'll face them when they're in town and be done with it."

Murdoch knew what Val meant to his son. Val had been a friend, protector, and father to the boy over the years.

At one time, Murdoch had felt pangs of jealousy at the relationship between Johnny and Val. However, it quickly passed one night when he and Val had talked. What was it Val had said, _"I've been as much a father to him as you are. There's more to being a father than just blood. Don't hate me because I made sure your boy's here today for you to love."_

The words had hit hard, but Murdoch realized Val was the reason Johnny was alive. More importantly, he knew Johnny loved Val as much as Val loved the boy. Johnny made it plain that night that Murdoch could either accept Val Crawford or lose his son. And with that Val became part of the Lancer family, a welcome part.

Val looked at Johnny and then at Murdoch. He sure as hell didn't want to be in this room in the next hour with these two going at each other.

"I'll send word." Val turned to leave. "Walk me out," he said to Johnny not as a question but as an order.

Johnny followed Val outside to where his horse was tied.

Val turned to look at his friend.

"Well, I'll be seeing you," Val said as he took the reins of his horse and held them loosely in his hand. He started to mount and then turned around again.

Johnny was looking at the ground in front of him. Val had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. Before Val could speak, Johnny spoke up.

"Val, not sure what I'm gonna' do. Someone in town is gonna' get hurt. I can't believe you haven't already had the Mayor breathing down your neck about the gunfights," Johnny said looking up at the man that was more than a friend.

"Who says I haven't already had that blow-heart peckin' at me," Val snorted. "Told him the day they made gunfights against the law, I'd do something about it."

"That'll happen someday," Johnny replied. "The town will pass an ordinance or something making it against the law. Probably won't happen soon enough for me though. Reckon I'll be dead by the time that happens."

"You quit talkin' like that, hijo," Val hissed, reaching out his hand and taking Johnny's arm.

Johnny started to say something more and changed his mind. There was no sense in upsetting Val.

"Go on. Get out of here," Johnny smiled. "I'll see you later."

Johnny watched as Val rode away. Turning toward the house, he took a deep breath. He wasn't looking forward to fighting with the old man tonight.

..********

Murdoch sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hand. He'd had a restless night with little sleep. His thoughts kept going back to the conversation with his youngest son the night before.

No matter what Murdoch said, Johnny was going to do things his way. So, what else was new?

Murdoch looked up as Scott came down the back stairs into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sir," Scott said as he sat down.

"Morning," Murdoch responded in almost a grumble.

"I take it you didn't sleep well."

"No, I didn't," Murdoch answered, looking toward the stairs. "Is your brother up?"

Scott followed Murdoch's gaze toward the stairs.

"I didn't hear him this morning, and he didn't come into my room," Scott answered and then frowned. "I didn't check on him. You don't suppose…?"

Both men were on their feet at the same time. Murdoch hit the stairs first with Scott on his heels.

As they hurried down the hallway, Murdoch's emotions were in turmoil. If that boy had gone off on his own, he was going to …. Well, he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew that his youngest son wouldn't like it.

Murdoch reached Johnny's door and put his hand on the handle. He turned to see Scott skid to a stop next to him. Murdoch turned the handle and pushed the door open with a little more force than needed.

The door slammed back against the wall.

Murdoch and Scott stepped into the room and came to a halt watching a startled, wide-eyed, dark-haired boy scrambling for his gun, while at the same time struggling to get his legs free of the bedsheets.

Johnny tumbled from the bed as he swung around to level his Colt at them. When he finally came to rest, he was half on and half off the bed.

Still half asleep, Johnny blinked, his bangs covered his eyes, the rest of his hair sticking up in all directions.

Blowing the hair away from his eyes, he yelled, "What the hell are you two doing? Are you loco? You know better than to burst in like that. I could have shot both of you."

Johnny lowered his gun. When he did the rest of his body slid off the bed with a thud.

Murdoch and Scott looked at each other, before bursting out in laughter.

"What's wrong with you two?" Johnny asked as he untangled the sheet from around his legs.

"When you weren't down for breakfast, we got worried," Scott snorted, trying to control his laughter.

"Worried? Why?" Johnny frowned as he stood up, gun still in his hand. "Look, can we talk about this after I get dressed. Right now, I need to …" Johnny stopped as his eyes went to the chamber pot under his bed.

"Oh," Murdoch lowered his head, blushing. "Yes, well, we'll see you downstairs."

Father and oldest son backed out of the room, closing the door behind them. Once in the hall they looked at each other and started laughing again. Their stray was safe and sound, at least for the time being.

..********

The sound of spurs announced Johnny's arrival in the kitchen. Murdoch and Scott sat at the table with heads lowered, both keeping their eyes on their coffee cups.

Johnny didn't say anything as he went to the stove and poured himself a cup. He kept watching the two men at the table trying to stifle their laughter.

Johnny sat down and took a sip of his coffee. Finally, he spoke up, "What's wrong with you two?"

Both men burst into laughter. Murdoch looked at his youngest son's frown and finally got control of himself. He started to speak and started laughing again.

Scott wiped the tears from his eyes.

"You… you falling out of bed. Brother, you should have seen… you. That's the funniest thing I've seen in a long time."

"Wasn't so funny from my side of things," Johnny growled. "Why'd you two come busting in there anyway?"

Murdoch took a deep breath. "When you didn't come down for breakfast, we thought you had taken off on your own. We were worried about you, son."

Johnny's head dipped slightly and sighed. It was still a new experience for him to have anyone worry about him. The thing was, he had thought about riding out to Green River before anyone woke up. Facing the two new threats was something he wanted to do without his family watching. They had seen enough of Johnny Madrid in action in the last few months to last a lifetime.

"Well, I didn't take off, and I was sleeping pretty hard when you two broke the door down," Johnny grumbled.

"I still want you to do the repairs on the bridge on the east pasture," Murdoch said, wiping his eyes.

Johnny nodded. "We can do that, but not until I take care of business in town."

Scott looked first at Murdoch and then at Johnny, seeing an argument beginning.

"You know grandfather is due to arrive in a few days. I want to spend some time with him. I want to get the bridge repairs done before he comes," Scott said, hoping Johnny would agree. He also wanted to keep his brother away from town.

"Alright." Johnny threw up both hands in surrender. "We do the repairs."

..********

A knock at the door brought everyone's head up. They waited for whoever it was to open the door. When a second knock came, they knew that their visitor wasn't from the ranch. No one from the ranch waited to be told to come in.

"I'll get it," Murdoch said, pushing back from the table. "You two finish your breakfast."

Murdoch opened the door and smiled when he saw Leon Fergus. The boy was about 14 years old with bright red hair and a face covered with freckles.

"Leon," Murdoch greeted the boy, "what brings you out here this early?"

"Morning, Mr. Lancer," Leon smiled and reached in his pocket for a piece of paper. "Sheriff Crawford sent me out here with a message for Johnny. He around?"

"I'll take it, son," Murdoch reached out for the note.

Leon's eyes narrowed, quickly drawing back his hand. "No, sir. I'm sorry. I'm to deliver it to Johnny and only Johnny."

Murdoch scowled and then looked over his shoulder. "John, you have a visitor."

Johnny walked up beside Murdoch. Seeing the boy, he smiled, "Morning, Leon."

"Mornin', Johnny." The boy looked at Johnny with a grin and something close to hero worship. "Got a message for you from the Sheriff. He said I was to give it to you and only you."

Leon glared at Murdoch.

"Well, go ahead and hand it over." Johnny returned the boy's grin.

Leon handed the piece of paper to Johnny and started to leave.

"You had your breakfast?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, sir," Leon answered. "Had it before I left town. Thank you for askin'. I better get back to town."

Johnny reached in his pocket. Taking out a silver dollar, he handed it to Leon.

"Wow, thanks, Johnny. Thanks a lot," Leon said as he ran to his horse.

Johnny looked at the note in his hand and then opened it. Cocking his head, he closed his eyes. It wasn't what he'd expected.

Turning back to the room, Murdoch and Scott were waiting for him.

Johnny opened the note and handed it to Murdoch.

Murdoch read it aloud, "Pistolero."

"Yeah, one not two. Not the men Val was talking about yesterday," Johnny said as he turned back stairs.

Murdoch and Scott waited for Johnny to return. When they heard him on the stairs, he was wearing his working gun.

Walking toward the French doors, Johnny said, "I'm going to town. I'll be back in a few hours."

"John…," Murdoch moved forward and grabbed his son's arm.

"Don't." Johnny spun around, pulling away from his father. "Don't do that, old man."

"Don't talk to me like that, young man," Murdoch spit the words out. "You're not going to town alone!"

Murdoch turned to look at his oldest son. "Scott, get the horses ready."

"You don't…," Johnny started to say when Murdoch cut him off.

"Yes, we do. You will not be alone. I know you have to do this, but you will never again have to do it alone," Murdoch said as he took a step closer to Johnny.

Murdoch reached out and pulled his son to him. Lessons had been learned; the hard way. He would never again let this son leave his sight without letting him know that he was loved.

Murdoch held Johnny tightly in his arms. Johnny laid his head against his father's chest. It was a sight that had become more common in the last two months between father and son. Murdoch took a deep breath and laid his head against his son's, whispering into Johnny's ear, "I love you, John."

Johnny's head dipped down and nodded. "I love you, too."

..********

Val stood outside his office watching the Lancers ride in, side by side. He knew the second he saw Johnny there was no need to ask if he was ready for the fight to come. The boy was already in full Madrid mode.

Johnny stepped down from the saddle and loosely tied Barranca to the hitching rail. He turned to Val.

"Where?"

"Saloon," Val answered.

Johnny nodded and started toward the Silver Dollar with Murdoch, Scott, and Val following.

Johnny stopped at the batwing doors. Peering in, he saw the man he was looking for standing at the bar. There was no mistaking the low-hung gun and the relaxed slouch of the man.

Johnny slowly pushed the doors open. Stepping inside, he made his way to the end of the bar and looked at the bartender.

"Tequila," Johnny said in a soft drawl.

The bartender sat a glass of tequila in front of Johnny and looked toward the doors. Seeing Val walk in, followed by Murdoch Lancer and his son Scott, told the bartender that trouble wasn't far behind.

Johnny looked into the mirror behind the bar. The gunfighter at the other end of the bar was gazing back at him.

Johnny turned to look down the bar at the same time the other man turned toward him.

"Heard you were looking for me," Johnny said in a soft voice.

"Madrid?" the other man asked with a smile on his face.

Johnny nodded.

"Heard you've been busy lately. Heard you were the fastest gun there is," the gunfighter's Texas drawl was evident.

"You heard a lot of things, mister. You know my name. What's yours?" Johnny asked holding the glass of tequila in his left hand.

"Brad Yokley," the gunfighter answered proudly.

"Yokley, I know why you've come. You don't have to do this," Johnny said not taking his eyes off the man at the other end of the bar.

"Yeah, I do. I want everyone to know that I'm the fastest gun alive. I'm going to be the man who took down Johnny Madrid." Yokley moved slightly so that he fully faced Johnny now.

Johnny shook his head. "Trust me, it ain't all that great. Being fast just means you have to spend the rest of your life defending yourself and trying to stay alive. If I could give you my reputation without one of us ending up buried, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"You turning yellow, Madrid?" Yokley sneered.

"No," Johnny shook his head, "just trying to save your life."

Yokley laughed. "It ain't my life you need to be worried about. I'm calling you out, Madrid. Either meet me outside, or I'll shoot you down where you stand."

Johnny downed the shot of tequila and nodded toward the door. "Outside."

Johnny turned and walked out of the saloon doors, ignoring Val and his family as he did.

Outside, Johnny looked up and down a deserted street. Word had spread about the gunfight.

Stepping down from the boardwalk, Johnny waited for Yokley to come out of the saloon. All his senses were on high alert as he heard the man open the batwing doors and walk up beside him.

Johnny waved an arm toward the street. "You want this dance, Yokley, pick your spot."

Johnny didn't care which end of the street he was on.

Yokley smiled as he moved to the center of the street. Turning, he waited for Madrid.

Moving into position, Johnny didn't look at or acknowledge his family. He didn't want them here, but he couldn't think about that now. His only focus was Yokley. The other man was a little too confident for Johnny's liking. He wondered if Yokley was going to be the one. The one that was finally faster or luckier.

Johnny stopped in the center of the street. Reaching into his waistband, he pulled out the black calfskin glove for his left hand and pulled it on. He took a deep breath and let it out as he straightened his gun belt and then his hat. Finally, turning to face Yokley.

"There's still time to call this off," Johnny said, knowing he was talking to the wind.

Yokley only smiled.

"Your dime, your dance," Johnny said, a smile crossing his face. Dios, he loved saying that. It said it all in four simple words.

Sam Jenkins made his way carefully down the boardwalk. He had spoken to Val earlier in the morning and knew about the gunfight. Moving next to Murdoch and Scott, he noted neither acknowledged his presence.

Johnny waited patiently for Yokley to make his move. The 'tell' was obvious.

Yokley went for his gun. Johnny drew and stepped to the right. His movements were nothing more than a blur.

Two shots rang out.

Yokley fell backward into the street with a bullet through the heart.

Johnny spun around and stumbled. A moment of surprise reflecting on his face. Yokley's bullet had grazed his arm. If Johnny hadn't stepped to the right and if Yokley had been luckier, Johnny would have also been lying in the street.

Val walked over to Yokley, kicking his gun away. Bending down, he made sure the gunfighter was dead. Val looked up to see Johnny sliding his Colt back into his holster; blood dripping from his left arm.

Murdoch and Scott waited until Val stood up before moving toward Johnny. Sam Jenkins was right beside them.

"Johnny," Scott said, worry in his voice.

"I'm alright," Johnny answered, his eyes on Yokley's still form. "It's just a graze."

"Over to my office," Sam said. "I need to have a look at it."

Johnny didn't argue. He just let them guide him toward Sam's office. The four men left Val standing in the street with Yokley's body. Val hadn't liked the look on his friend's face. It was one of confusion and surprise.

Val was worried. The gunfight had been close; too close. Johnny had been just as fast as ever, but Yokley had the advantage of drawing first, and he'd been fast. He knew the look of surprise on Johnny's face was because he knew just how close it had been.

..********

The ride back to Lancer was quiet. Sam had bandaged Johnny's arm and agreed that it was just a graze. When he joked that Teresa had another shirt to mend, he didn't get the laugh out of the Lancers he had intended.

The moment he rode under the arch, Johnny could see an angry Cipriano waiting. Next to Cipriano were the five 'chosen' men. The Lancers had left the ranch without telling any of them where they were going.

Juan took hold of Barranca the moment he stopped in front of the house. Johnny stepped down from the saddle and looked at his uncle.

"Sobrino?" Cipriano said noticing Johnny's bloody shirt and bandaged arm.

"I'm fine, Tio," Johnny answered and turned toward the front door.

Cipriano turned to Murdoch. "Patron?"

"It's just a graze," Murdoch answered. "We didn't have time to get anyone to go with us." Murdoch knew that Johnny's uncle was unhappy.

Cipriano shook his head. "Was it the two pistoleros we heard about?"

"No, it wasn't," Murdoch answered. "This one was alone. The two Val told us about are still coming."

"Ay, ay, ay," Cipriano shook his head.

"Cipriano, I'm sending Scott and Johnny to the east pasture to work on the bridge. Send some men with them," Murdoch said as he handed the reins of his horse to Joe. "They're going to leave as soon as I make sure Johnny feels up to it."

"Si, Patron," Cipriano turned, considering the men. He scratched the side of his face trying to decide who to send. The Segundo wanted to send them all. Infierno, he wanted to go with them as well.

Walt and Frank looked at each other. They knew what Cipriano was thinking. The bridge repairs didn't need all of them though.

Walt spoke up, "Cip, why don't Frank and I go with Scott and Johnny. You know the creek in the east pasture needs to be cleaned out, and the fence line needs checking. Juan, Jose, and Joe can get it done in let's say … a couple of days."

"Si," Cipriano smiled, "an excellent idea."

Murdoch chuckled. Leave it to Walt to come up with a solution that took care of all their needs and provide the protection he needed and wanted for his son as well.

..********

Scott stepped into the Great Room. Not seeing Johnny, he headed for the stairs.

Standing outside Johnny's door with his hand on the doorknob, Scott waited a second before opening the door. Inside, he found Johnny sitting on the side of the bed with the bloody shirt on the floor, his gun belt lying next to him. Johnny's head was in his hands; a thin sheen of sweat covered his back and chest.

Johnny's head shot up when the door opened. He started to say something to Scott about knocking but bit back the words.

Scott closed the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" Scott moved to sit beside Johnny.

"I'm fine," Johnny answered. "I'll get cleaned up and be down in a few minutes."

Johnny stood up and went to the wash basin sitting on the dresser. Scowling at himself in the mirror, he felt like he was looking at a ghost. The turn of events in the gunfight shook him up more than he was willing to admit.

"It was close, wasn't it?" Scott questioned, watching Johnny splashing water on his face.

Johnny didn't answer.

"How does the arm feel?" Scott asked.

Still no answer.

Scott continued to sit on the edge of the bed waiting for Johnny to answer or kick him out.

Johnny turned around with a towel in his hands. He dried his face and hair before wiping the sweat from his chest and arms. He didn't look at Scott as he opened the top drawer of the dresser, pulling out a fresh shirt.

Pulling on the shirt and buttoning it, Johnny glanced at Scott. It was apparent he wasn't going away on his own. Johnny tucked his shirttail in and moved back to the side of the bed. He sat down and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, it was close," Johnny answered Scott's original question. "Yokley was fast; he just wasn't accurate. If he'd made his shot count, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Scott hesitated before speaking again, "Do you need more practice?"

Johnny stared at his brother, wondering what answer would make Scott feel better. Finally, he answered with a huff, "Yeah. That's what I need, more practice."

"Johnny," Scott reached out his hand and placed it on his brother's knee, "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I meant, are you getting enough time to practice here on the ranch. You're clearly getting enough practice in town."

Johnny laughed, "You can say that again, Boston."

"Are you ready to go down? Murdoch wants to talk to us about the bridge repairs," Scott said as he stood up. "The arm?"

"It's fine, just a scratch. Doc didn't even put stitches in it," Johnny said as he stood and buckled his gun belt.

Scott noted that Johnny wore his gun in the house all the time now. He also noted that Murdoch hadn't objected.

Scott and Johnny went downstairs to find Murdoch sitting at his desk. The older Lancer looked up as his sons crossed the room.

"I'm sending Walt and Frank with you to work on the bridge," Murdoch said before either of them asked. "Cipriano is sending Jose, Juan, and Joe to clean out the creek in the east pasture and repair the fencing up there."

Johnny snorted, "So you're sending the whole crew up there to watch out for me. You know you can't keep doing that."

"I'll do it as long as necessary," Murdoch stated firmly.

"Murdoch, if I left…," Johnny started.

"Absolutely not!" Murdoch was on his feet. "We've had this conversation. You are not leaving."

Johnny was going to argue the issue but decided it was a losing battle. He knew the day was coming and soon when he'd have to choose whether to leave or not, for everyone's safety.

"Sir," Scott spoke up, "when do you want us to start the repairs on the bridge."

Murdoch looked around at the clock. It was already close to noon. It was too late in the day for his sons to get to the bridge and start repairs today. However, they could be there and set up camp before dark. The repairs could be started early the next morning.

"If John feels alright, you can leave as soon as you've had lunch. You can reach the bridge by nightfall and at least set up camp. If you get an early start tomorrow, you should have the repairs completed by the day after. Harlan is due to arrive the day after that," Murdoch answered, returning to his chair.

Johnny nodded, "I'm fine. I'll go tell Walt and Frank to load the wagon with the supplies we'll need."

Murdoch looked at his son and nodded. "I'll have Maria get your lunch ready and supplies for a couple of days."

Scott watched his brother leave and then turned to his father.

"Sir, the gunfight today was close. I think it shook him up. He's not getting enough time to practice here on the ranch."

Murdoch nodded. "Yes, it was close. I couldn't believe Yokley got a shot off against your brother. See that he finds time to practice."

Scott gave a quick nod and followed Johnny out the door.

..********

The men made good time to the east range, and there was still enough light to get some work done. Johnny and Scott checked the bridge to see what repairs were needed, while Walt and Frank unloaded the wagon.

They spent what was left of the day doing repairs. They both knew Murdoch, sending them to repair the bridge, was just a way to get Johnny away from the house.

"What do you say we call it a day." Scott turned to Johnny, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"Fine by me," Johnny smiled, stretching his back. "I've had it. Next time the old man wants this bridge fixed, he's sending a lot more men."

"Amen," Scott answered as he picked up his tools and started back toward the buckboard.

They had decided to make camp near the bridge so that they could start work again early the next morning.

"I'll take care of the horses if you'll get a fire going," Walt told Scott.

Johnny looked at his brother with both hands on his hips. "Does that mean you're cooking tonight?"

Scott slowly turned to look at Johnny, a smile on his face. "Not necessarily. You can cook, or we eat my cooking."

Johnny threw his hands in the air. "No… I'll cook. You need to take lessons from Maria. I don't think my stomach can handle your cooking tonight."

Frank stepped forward. "No! Neither one of you is cooking. I'll do it."

Walt and Scott went to take care of the horses while Johnny got a fire started.

Johnny looked at the meal Frank was making. "An awful lot, isn't it?"

Frank smiled, "The other fellows will be along soon."

Johnny dipped his head, taking a deep breath.

Scott was watching his brother and heard him mutter, "Babysitters."

Scott moved to Johnny's side and put an arm around him. "Not babysitters, little brother. Consider them just extra men to watch your back."

Twenty minutes later Joe, Juan, and Jose rode in. The first thing Joe asked was, "Who's doing the cookin'?"

Walt laughed, "Frank."

"Good," Joe chuckled, throwing his bedroll down near the fire. "If it was Johnny or Scott, we were gonna' go set up camp somewhere else."

"What's so bad about my cooking?" Johnny asked with an exasperated look on his face. "I know my way around a campfire. If I didn't, I would have starved to death long ago."

Juan laughed, "Senor Johnny, si, you know your way around a campfire. You make good … coffee."

Everyone was laughing as Frank announced chuck was ready.

..********

"Not bad," Scott commented as he put his plate down. "Frank, you do know how to cook."

"Learned from my mama," Frank answered with a downturned head. "She sure was a good cook."

Scott waited a few minutes before asking, "Frank, how long has it been since you saw your mother?" They all knew Frank was a freed slave and hadn't had an easy early life.

Frank looked up at the sky. "Master was gonna' sell her off, but she died before he could. I was about six or seven. She knew the day would come when we'd be separated. Even then she was getting' me ready to be without her."

They sat quietly for a long time listening to the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the night.

"Mira!" Juan jumped up, pointing to the southern sky. Points of light streaking across the heavens suddenly filled the night sky.

"Fuego en el cielo," Jose said.

Scott looked at Johnny.

"Fire in the sky," Johnny answered gazing at the light show overhead.

"Meteors." Scott was on his feet watching in awe as more and more lights blazed across the sky. "Dozens of them."

Scott could see his brother in the light of the fire. There was a sudden sadness to his face.

"Pistoleros," Johnny spoke up softly, gazing into the campfire.

"What?"

"Gunfighters. That's what we are. Shooting stars. See that one; the biggest and brightest?" Johnny pointed skyward. "That's me up there, Brother. That's Johnny Madrid."

Scott and the others waited patiently for Johnny to continue.

"That's what it feels like, Scott. See that one brilliant ball of light, the others chasing it," Johnny nodding skyward. "It burns hot and bright as it streaks across the sky. Nothing can stand in its way. It pushes everything aside, even the air. Then as quickly as it appeared, it's gone. Burned out. All that's left is a memory, and then just like that, another takes its place."

Johnny looked down at the fire again.

"I've been burning bright for a long time, Scott. Longer than most. Too long. My time's coming."

"Don't talk like that!" Scott snapped.

"It's true," Johnny tilted his head back, scanning the night sky. "I'm the best there is right now, but that won't last forever… it can't. Someone will come along, and soon, whose faster than me, or luckier, or smarter. When that happens, I'll be nothing more than a fading memory."

Johnny sighed, "That's the way it is. I can't change it. It almost happened today. Yokley was faster than me. If he'd aimed a little more to the left …"

"Johnny…," Scott moved to sit next to his brother.

"It's alright," Johnny said knowing Scott was at a loss for words.

Was Johnny right? Was that his Fate; to be like one of those shooting stars burn brightly for a short time, then become a fading memory while another takes his place?

"No, it's not alright. Johnny, you may feel like one of those shooting stars, but you're not. First, you're not alone… maybe at one time, but not now. We're here for you and always will be. Second, if you think you could be forgotten so easily, then you have no idea how important you are… to me, to Murdoch, to Lancer. Little brother, you've touched a lot of lives. No one is ever going to forget you." Scott looked around the campfire. "Johnny, don't you know by now, legends never die, and they're never forgotten."

Scott knew he should say more, but couldn't find the words.

Johnny leaned into Scott, smiling. "If you say so."

"I do say so and don't forget it." Scott put an arm around Johnny's shoulder as together they watched the sky fill with streaking balls of fire, each brighter than the last.

Scott knew he would never again be able to see a shooting star without thinking of his brother.

..********

"Rise and shine," Johnny kicked his sleeping brother's leg as he walked by.

Scott rolled over, frowning.

"We got work to do, Boston," Johnny laughed as he added wood to the fire.

Frank stood up and stretched. Seeing Johnny near the fire, reaching for the coffee pot, he yelled out, "Oh, no you don't!"

Johnny jumped back, crouching as he did, hand moving to his gun. Looking around, he saw Frank headed his way.

"I'm fixing breakfast… and the coffee," Frank said as he saw Johnny's hand relax.

Johnny raised his hands in the air and took two steps backward. "Alright," Johnny laughed, "you win."

"Thank the lord," Joe snorted, sending everyone into a fit of laughter.

Johnny looked at the smiling faces of the men standing around the campfire. He wondered how he'd gotten so lucky. He'd spent his entire life with only one person he could count on. Now … well, now he had a family, and he'd learned over the last few months that there was more to family than just blood.

They finished breakfast and packed up the camp. Joe, Juan, and Jose waved as they rode out to check the fence line and clean out the creek. Scott, Johnny, Walt, and Frank started work on the bridge.

By noon, the repairs to the bridge were complete. Walt and Frank loaded the wagon while Scott and Johnny got the horses ready. Twenty minutes later they were headed home.

Scott rode quietly, thinking about his grandfather. They'd finished the bridge repairs early, so now he had an extra day to prepare for the older man's arrival. He wondered why Harlan Garrett was coming.

Scott knew that his grandfather had taken it hard when he'd left Boston and decided to stay in California. There had been many letters from his grandfather asking him to return to Boson.

Scott had written back that he was happy in California and that it would be some time before he revisited Boston. After that, Harlan's letters had been less insistent on returning to Boston, or at least Scott hoped that was the case.

Johnny and Scott rode ahead of the wagon at a leisurely pace. The brothers were bantering back and forth when the first shot rang out.

A bullet hit the ground in front of Barranca, causing him to rear on his hind legs. The second shot sent the stallion into a frenzy throwing Johnny from the saddle.

Johnny struck the ground hard on his back and then rolled onto his stomach.

"Johnny!" Scott screamed as he watched his brother hit the ground with a bounce. He threw himself off his horse and ran to Johnny's side, gun drawn.

Walt pulled the wagon beside the brothers, effectively protecting them from further gunshots.

Walt and Frank grabbed their rifles and jumped down from the still moving wagon. They took cover behind the wagon bed just as a third shot hit the wagon, sending wood splinters in all directions.

Walt and Frank returned fire.

Walt glanced over his shoulder to see Scott crouching low and reaching out to touch Johnny's neck.

Scott closed his eyes, sighing in relief when he felt a pulse.

Looking at Walt, Scott nodded. Catching sight of Joe, Juan, and Jose as they topped the rise to his left, Scott waved and pointed toward the source of the shooting.

Joe nodded his understanding and motioned for Juan and Jose to follow him. Just as they started to move, they saw three men riding away.

"Do we follow?" Juan asked Joe.

"No, let them go," Joe shook his head. "Let's go see what our boy's gotten himself into this time."

As the three men rode toward Scott and the wagon, they could see Johnny on the ground, with Scott kneeling next to him.

Scott watched Joe, Juan, and Jose turn toward the wagon. Scott put his gun away and bent over his brother. Rolling Johnny onto his back, he looked his brother over and realized that he hadn't been shot.

"How is he?" Walt asked kneeling on the other side of the younger Lancer.

"I don't think he was hit," Scott answered. "It looks like he just had the wind knocked out of him when he hit the ground." Scott ran his hand over the side of Johnny's face. "Frank, hand me a canteen."

Frank lifted a canteen off the wagon and handed it to Scott.

Scott poured water on his bandana and wiped Johnny's face and neck. He smiled when he saw dark blue eyes fluttering open.

"Hi," Scott said.

Johnny rolled his head, squinting, "What happened?"

"Ambush," Scott answered collapsing on the ground. "You were thrown. How do you feel?"

Johnny closed his eyes and rubbed his head. He was going to have one hell of a headache for sure.

"Alright, I guess," Johnny answered as he sat up. "Got a headache and I'm sore, but guess I'm in one piece." Johnny looked around, "We know who it was?"

Joe dismounted and moved over to stand next to Scott. "We saw three men ride away."

Scott spoke up, "Three men, three shots. That figures."

"Anyone hurt?" Johnny asked holding up his left hand to Joe.

"Nope," Joe answered as he pulled Johnny to his feet.

Scott stood next to his brother, taking hold of his arm as he tried to get his balance. "I think you need to ride in the wagon."

"I'm alright. Where's Barranca?" Johnny asked as he rubbed the back of his head.

"The way he was running, I'd say he's was halfway home by now," Scott answered and then firmly stated. "Get in the wagon, Brother."

With Scott's help, Johnny reluctantly climbed into the back of the wagon. As he sat down, he was silently thankful he wasn't on a horse. His head hurt worse than he let on; he was sore all over and felt a tightness in his chest where he'd hit the ground.

"Juan," Scott looked at the vaquero, "go into town, get Sam, and then tell Val what happened."

"Si, Senor Scott," Juan replied before turning his horse toward Green River.

"Hold on, Johnny," Walt called out, as he flicked the reins and the wagon started moving with a jerk. Walt looked over his shoulder to see a pale Johnny grasp the edge of the wagon bed.

Scott mounted his horse and fell in behind the wagon with Joe and Jose. They scanned the surrounding area for any sign of further trouble as they started back home.

..********

Murdoch was talking to Cipriano when one of the guards at the arch yelled. He looked up to see Barranca running toward the barn. Murdoch's first thought was that his son was running his horse in the yard until he realized there was no rider.

Barranca started slowing as he came closer to the barn. Cipriano stepped in front of the palomino, raising his hands in an attempt to stop him. Once he'd taken hold of the bridle, Cipriano examined Barranca.

"Patron, there is no blood on the saddle, and the horse is unhurt."

"Saddle our horses," Murdoch ordered as he started toward the house to get his gun belt and rifle.

When Murdoch came out of the house, he found Cipriano and eight men waiting for him. He mounted and turned toward the arch. Cipriano was beside him as they started toward the east pasture. The men hadn't gone more than five miles when they saw a wagon coming. Murdoch pulled up, raising his left hand, halting the men that followed him.

Murdoch smiled when he saw Scott. When he didn't see his youngest son, the smile quickly disappeared.

Seeing his father, Scott kicked Remmie's sides.

"Scott," Murdoch called out when Scott was within hearing, "Barranca…"

"Yes, Sir," Scott cut him off. "We were ambushed. Barranca threw Johnny. He's in the back of the wagon. I don't think he's seriously hurt. He wasn't shot."

Murdoch pulled his horse to the side of the wagon. Peering into the back, the smiling face of his youngest son greeted him.

"I'm fine," Johnny said before Murdoch could ask.

"Aren't you always?" Murdoch laughed. "Let's get home and have a good look at you."

"I've sent Juan for Sam," Scott said as Walt started the wagon moving again.

"Good," Murdoch nodded and fell in behind the wagon.

Murdoch watched Johnny and could tell he was in pain.

Maria met the wagon when it stopped in front of the house and instantly took over. Before he knew it, Johnny was in his room, undressed, and in bed. He didn't argue with the woman and even sighed when his head sank into the soft, feather pillow.

The next thing Johnny knew, Sam Jenkins was bending over him. Groggily, he tried to talk and found the words wouldn't come. Giving up, he closed his eyes again.

Voices seemed to penetrate the fog that surrounded his brain.

"He has a slight concussion," Sam was saying. "His ribs are bruised, but I don't think any are cracked or broken. He should stay in bed a day or two."

Johnny heard laughter at what Sam said. He lost the battle to open his eyes and found he was about to lose the fight to stay awake.

..********

Sunlight filled his room when Johnny woke the next day. Slowly, he stretched and looked around. The smell of fresh coffee put a smile on his face.

Tossing the covers aside, Johnny swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He waited for a brief wave of dizziness to pass. When it did, he stood up.

The headache he'd had the day before was almost gone. He was still sore but nothing he couldn't handle.

Johnny dressed and made his way down the back stairs to the kitchen. It was then he realized how late it was. Not only had he missed breakfast, but also lunch. Pouring a cup of coffee, he found a plate of leftover biscuits on the stove and took one.

Making his way through the Great Room, Johnny walked out onto the veranda into a bright sunny day. The sun was so bright that it hurt his eyes and brought back not only a headache but also a bout of nausea. He found a seat on the veranda and leaned his head back.

"Should you be out here?" Murdoch's voice seemed to come out of nowhere.

Johnny winced when his head shot up.

"I'm sorry, son. I've done it again," Murdoch said taking a seat next to his son. "I didn't mean to startle you. How do you feel?"

"Thought the headache was gone until I walked out into the light," Johnny answered. "It's better than yesterday."

"Val was here last night," Murdoch put a hand on Johnny's leg. "He said he would come back this afternoon to check on you. He was going to go out to where the ambush happened and see if he could pick up a trail."

Johnny didn't answer, only nodded.

"We were lucky you weren't hit yesterday," Murdoch leaned back in his chair.

"Luck didn't have anything to do with it," Johnny bent forward and looked at the ground. "Whoever it was had me dead to rights. Either one of the first two shots could have taken me down for good. They weren't shooting to kill."

"Are you sure?" Murdoch was now leaning forward as well.

"I'm sure. It was as if they were firing warning shots," Johnny turned his head to look at his father. "Someone's playing with us again. You may want to double the guards on the house and let the men know."

Murdoch nodded, "Teresa's home. She came back last night. I'll let her know you're out here after I talk to Cipriano."

Murdoch looked across the yard toward the corral where Cipriano was standing with some of the vaqueros. He started toward the corral and was halfway across the yard when the sound of a rifle shot broke the air, and a cloud of dust jetted up at his feet.

Murdoch turned and ran back to the veranda. The only thought he had was for his son. Murdoch ran behind one of the pillars and looked at the place he'd left Johnny. He was gone.

Murdoch looked around. Cipriano and the Lancer men had their handguns and rifles ready, all now taking cover. There was still no sign of Johnny.

Seconds passed, and no more shots were fired.

Murdoch heard a stirring behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Johnny moving out the French doors with his gun in his hand.

"I think they're gone," Murdoch said just as another shot sounded, the bullet hitting the pillar he was behind.

"Where's Scott?" Johnny asked as he looked around the pillar he was now behind.

"He was in the barn," Murdoch looked toward the barn hoping to see his oldest son safe.

Scott had been coming out of the barn when the first shot rang out. He saw the puff of dust at his father's feet, and his heart sank. Twice in as many days, the men of Lancer were under fire.

Scott looked toward the house and felt relief when he saw Murdoch was safe. He let out a second sigh when his brother made an appearance.

After several seconds of quiet, Scott thought it was over. He was about to stand up when the second shot rang out and came close to where his father was standing.

Everyone waited. If the shootings were following the same pattern, a third shot was still to come.

Johnny had had enough. He peered around the pillar he was behind and took a deep breath. Letting it out, he stepped out into the yard.

Scott held his breath when he saw Johnny.

"Johnny!" Murdoch screamed.

A third shot rang out, and the bullet hit at Johnny's feet. He didn't move or flinch.

"Cobardes!" Johnny screamed. (Cowards)

The sound of horses riding away signaled it was over.

Cipriano ran across the yard to the house.

"Patron, you are alright?" Cipriano asked when he reached the house.

"Yes," Murdoch answered. "I'm alright. I was coming to tell you to double the guards on the house. Now I want patrols around the house as well. Whoever is behind this got too close without us knowing it."

"Si, Patron, I will take care of it," Cipriano replied as he turned to look at Johnny still standing in the yard, his right arm down to his side; clutching his Colt.

Cipriano stomped over to Johnny. Everyone could tell he wasn't a happy man.

"Sobrino, eso fue muy valiente y muy estupido," Cipriano shook his head. "No lo hagas de nuevo!" _(Nephew, that was very brave and very stupid. Don't do it again!)_

Johnny looked at Cipriano and smiled. "Si, Tio."

Scott ran across the yard and skidded to a stop next to Johnny.

"I don't know what Cip said, but I agree with him," Scott fumed as he put an arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close.

Scott turned Johnny back to the house. Murdoch met them halfway. The older Lancer threw his arms around his two sons and pulled them to him, thanking the Lord the entire time they were both safe. The brothers melted into their father.

Murdoch pushed his sons away from him and looked into their eyes, first Scott's and then Johnny's. God, he loved these two. He let Scott go and put both of hands on Johnny's shoulders.

"Why?" Murdoch ground out, wanting to shake some sense into the boy. "Why did you do that? You could have been killed."

"Testing a theory," Johnny answered.

"What theory?" Scott asked.

"They weren't sent to kill anyone, just shake us up," Johnny answered. "Like I told Murdoch, they're playing with us."

The sound of a horse riding under the arch caught everyone's attention. Vaqueros and ranch hands alike took up their rifles again, taking cover. Murdoch started to pull his sons toward the veranda when Johnny put up a hand to stop him.

"Hold your fire!" Johnny called out. "It's Val."

Val didn't slow down until he was in front of Johnny. Jumping down from the saddle, he looked around the yard and saw men with guns.

"Heard gunfire when I got to the ridge," Val said waving his hand toward the ridge overlooking the ranch. "Everyone alright?"

"We're fine, Val," Murdoch spoke up. "It appears that whoever ambushed the boys yesterday came back today to try again."

"They just took potshots at us, Val," Johnny spoke up. "They weren't trying to hit anyone."

Val looked down thinking before he spoke, "You think Wilson had a partner?"

"Either that or whoever hired Wilson found a replacement for him," Johnny replied closing his eyes and swaying slightly.

"Whoa," Val said as he reached out and took Johnny's arm. "You need to sit down."

Johnny nodded and turned toward the house. He felt Val move in beside him and put an arm around his waist holding him up.

"On the sofa," Murdoch motioned as the four men made their way into the Great Room.

Teresa and Maria ran out of the kitchen. Murdoch saw Teresa coming and opened his arms. She ran into them, tears in her eyes.

"I was so scared," Teresa trembled as Murdoch patted her back. "Why was someone shooting at us?"

"I don't know, darling," Murdoch answered truthfully. "Thank heaven; no one's hurt."

"Is Johnny alright?" Teresa looked toward the sofa where Johnny was now sitting with his head leaning back and eyes closed.

"Why don't you get us something cold to drink?" Murdoch said. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Put some of the pain powders Sam left in Johnny's drink."

She nodded and went back into the kitchen.

Val stood by the fireplace looking down at his friend. The boy was pale. Reaching down, he lifted the Colt from Johnny's hand. It didn't go unnoticed that Johnny didn't seem to know his gun was no longer in his hand.

"Son," Murdoch spoke up.

Johnny opened his eyes. Only then did he realize Val was holding his gun.

"Why don't you go back upstairs and lay down?" Murdoch urged as he watched Johnny and Val staring at each other.

Silently, Johnny leaned forward, holding out his hand. Val smiled and then twirled the gun twice before presenting it butt first to Johnny.

When Teresa returned to the room, she started handing glasses of cold lemonade to everyone. As she turned away from Johnny, she gave Murdoch a shy smile.

Johnny drank more than half of the lemonade before setting the glass down.

Murdoch repeated himself, "John, you need to lay down. Go upstairs. We'll call you when dinner's ready."

Johnny yawned and rubbed his eyes. The next thing he knew he had Murdoch on one side of him and Val on the other. The two men were pulling him from the sofa and guiding him toward the stairs.

Looking back over his shoulder, Johnny saw his brother smiling as he picked up the half-full glass of lemonade.

..********

When Johnny woke the next morning, it didn't take him long to figure out what had happened. He didn't appreciate anyone putting sleeping powders into his drink.

Dressing quickly, Johnny made his way to the kitchen. Murdoch and Scott watched him slip into his chair at the table.

"Did you sleep well?" Scott asked with a grin.

"Yeah," Johnny answered, "I slept real good. It looks like I slept most of yesterday and all night." Johnny's eyes narrowed. "Don't ever do that to me again, either of you."

"What?" Scott tried to sound innocent.

"You know what I'm talking about. I know one of you had Teresa put sleeping powders in the lemonade."

Murdoch spoke up, "It was me, son. I told Teresa to put the powders in your drink. You needed rest, and I knew you weren't going to get any unless you had help."

Johnny was quiet for the rest of the meal.

Murdoch broke the silence. "Scott, what time does your grandfather's stage get in?"

"Two o'clock, Sir," Scott answered with a smile. "If the stage isn't late, we should be home in plenty of time for dinner."

Murdoch nodded his approval.

"John, what are your plans for the day?" Murdoch asked hoping his son had plans to stay near the house. He knew that Johnny appeared to have recovered from his injuries, but he wanted to be sure.

"Thought I'd ride out and see if there is any sign of the men that shot at us," Johnny answered.

"Val rode out there yesterday afternoon," Murdoch replied. "He said he followed the tracks until he lost them at the road. It appears they were heading for Morro Coyo."

Johnny thought for a second before speaking. "Scott, I think you should take some of the men with you when you go to pick up your grandfather. No telling what these fellows are gonna' do next."

Scott nodded his agreement. "And you'll take some men with you when you go looking for tracks?"

Johnny nodded his agreement.

Murdoch watched his two sons and smiled. They understood each other, these two young men who had started as strangers. Strangers that had been thrown together to battle for the empire he had built for them. Now, these two extraordinary men had formed bonds that would last a lifetime.

..********

Johnny headed out to search for tracks and left Murdoch and Scott to discuss the upcoming visit.

By the time Scott was ready to leave for town, it seemed he was the only one excited about Harlan Garrett's stay.

Jacobs brought the buggy around to the front of the house and waited with Slim and Jose. The men wondered what Garrett was going to be like. The talk in the bunkhouse was that neither the Boss or Johnny were looking forward to the visit.

When Scott came out and got in the buggy, the men mounted, ready to follow.

Murdoch watched the buggy disappear down the road with the three Lancer hands following. While he was anxious for Scott's return, he wasn't looking forward to seeing Harlan. The last time he had seen his father-in-law, Scott had been five years old, and the meeting hadn't ended well for Murdoch.

..********

An hour and a half after leaving Lancer, Scott drove into Green River and stopped at the stage depot. Looking at his watch, he realized he was at least an hour early. He instructed Jacobs, Slim, and Jose to go for a drink, if they wanted.

Scott decided to visit Val while he waited.

Pushing the Sheriff's door open, he found Val with his feet on his desk; hat pulled down over his eyes. It looked like he was dozing.

"Busy, Sheriff?" Scott said as he pushed the door closed behind him.

Val was on his feet in less than a second, hand on his gun. He relaxed when he saw it was Scott.

"You know you're as bad as your brother. One of these days I'm gonna' shoot one of you for doing that to me," Val growled.

"Val, no one is as bad as my brother, and you know it," Scott laughed, sitting down in one of the chairs near the desk.

"Ain't that the truth," Val laughed. "I know you're not in town just to aggravate me. What are you doing here?"

"My grandfather is due in on the two o'clock stage."

"That's right, I remember," Val leaned back in his chair. "Johnny doing alright today?"

"He is," Scott answered. "He was mad that we put sleeping powders in his drink. I don't think we'll be doing that again any time soon."

Val sat for a few seconds thinking, before speaking. "Scott, you know that Johnny's not the kind of man you do that sort of thing too? Another time, another place that could have gotten him killed."

"You mean it could have gotten Madrid killed?" Scott responded. "He's not Madrid anymore."

"He's always Madrid, and he's always gonna' be Madrid," Val sat forward. "You and Murdoch don't understand. Johnny's not gonna' be able to give up his gun just because you two think he should."

"He's 18 years old, Val. My God, he's just a boy," Scott stood up, "My brother is just a boy!"

"Your brother stopped being a boy a long time ago," Val was on his feet now. "He stopped being a boy the day he killed his first man."

"I know what he's had to do to survive, but Val he's still …" Scott took a deep breath. "He's my little brother." There was a plea for understanding in his voice.

Val looked at Scott's light blue eyes. They were so different than his brothers.

"I know, Scott and I know you love him. You have to remember that there are a lot of men that want his reputation and want to see him dead. Don't put him in a position where he can't defend himself."

Scott knew Val loved Johnny as much as he did. He was thankful that his brother had someone in his past who loved and cared for him when no one else did.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was almost time for the stage. Scott got to his feet and walked to the door. Turning, he saw Val put his head in his hands.

"Thank you, Val. Thank you for caring about him. I'm grateful for all you've done for my brother. Thank you for being there for him and me," Scott said.

Val looked up and nodded as Scott walked out and closed the door behind him.

..********

"Grandfather!" Scott called out as the short, grey-haired man in a three-piece suit, stepped off the stage.

"Scotty, my boy," Harlan gushed; then stared at the dusty looking cowboy in front of him. "I would never have recognized you. You look so… so rustic; those clothes."

Scott laughed. "I like it here, Sir."

Harlan contained the remark he wanted to make and responded with, "Well, it seems to suit you. You've filled out since the last time I saw you."

Scott laughed, "Yes, I have. Maria's cooking is excellent, and hard work makes it taste even better. Are you ready to go or do you need to freshen up first?"

"I'm ready," Harlan answered looking around the dusty little town with disdain. He couldn't imagine what his grandson had found in this God-forsaken place to hold him here.

"This way," Scott motioned as the stage driver sat the luggage on the boardwalk.

Scott saw Jacobs, Slim, and Jose ride up. The men waited while Scott helped his grandfather into the buggy.

"Grandfather, these are three of our men. This is Jacobs, Slim, and Jose. They'll be escorting us back to the ranch," Scott introduced the ranch hands with a smile. The three men nodded to Harlan and noticed that the older man dismissed them with one look.

Val stood outside the jail watching as Scott, and his grandfather drove by. Johnny had told him about Harlan Garrett. Shaking his head, he wondered what kind of trouble the older man was going to cause at Lancer.

Val glanced toward the saloon and frowned. Two men were tying off their horses and looking around. Val knew what they were the moment he saw them. The two gunhawks, he'd received the telegram about had arrived. He decided to check them out before letting Johnny know they were in town.

Standing at the batwing doors of the Silver Dollar, Val could see the two gunfighters standing at the far end of the bar.

Val pushed the doors open and stepped in. The regulars watched him move to the bar. He shifted his hat back on his head and waited for the two men to notice him.

"Sheriff," the man closest to Val spoke, giving him a nod. "Can we help you?"

Val let a faint smile cross his face. "Name's Crawford, Val Crawford. Hope you two are just passing through. I like to keep things quiet here. We don't need trouble."

"Well, Sheriff Crawford, I think you know why we're here. We're here to do you a favor. The way we understand it, this town has its own built-in trouble. We're gonna' make all your troubles go away," the gunfighter smiled.

"What's your name, mister?" Val asked.

"Taylor, Jessie Taylor and this is Jake Harris," Taylor responded. "You tell us where we can find John Madrid; we'll finish our business and be on our way."

"Taylor, you and Harris need to move on," Val replied. "The only trouble we have around here is when gunhawks come to town thinking they can take Madrid."

"Not moving on until we 'dance,' Sheriff," Harris spoke up. "If you can't get word to Madrid that we're here, then we'll find someone who will."

Val knew these two weren't going to move on until the 'dance' was over.

"I'll get word to him. You two enjoy yourselves while you can. Don't expect you'll be alive after Madrid's done with you."

Val walked out of the saloon, going straight back to his office. He opened the door, then kicked it closed behind him. Taking his hat off, he slammed it on the hat rack.

Val sat down and opened the top right drawer of the desk, taking out a bottle of bourbon. Reaching for a glass, he started to pour a drink. Looking at the bourbon in his right hand, Val forgot the glass and took a long drink directly from the bottle.

Cursing, Val looked out the window. He knew he needed to send word to Johnny and hated to do it.

Scott stopped at the ridge overlooking Lancer. It was the same spot Teresa had stopped that first day.

Harlan Garrett looked out over the land that his daughter had written to him about so many times. He hated this land as much as he hated Murdoch Lancer.

"Lancer?" Harlan asked.

Scott looked over the land his mother had called home. This was the land his father had shaped into a legacy for him and his brother. Scott loved this land and was proud of the empire his father had built.

"Yes," Scott answered with pride, "from here to the mountains. Isn't it beautiful?"

Harlan looked at his grandson's smile and knew better than to disagree with him, "Yes, beautiful. I've never seen it before, but I seem to know it so well. Your mother wrote to me often about it."

Scott couldn't help himself, "She loved him, Sir. That's why she came out here, to share her life with him."

Harlan wanted to spit venom at that point, but he was bidding his time. All he said was, "Yes, I suppose she did. Well, we had better be going."

Scott flicked the reins, and the buggy started toward the hacienda.

As the road began to level out into the valley floor a blur of gold flashed across the green pasture to their left.

Jose called out and pointed, "Juanito!"

Scott smiled. He always did when he saw Johnny and his horse moving as one.

The horse and rider caught Harlan's attention. "Scotty, that is a magnificent animal. I don't think I've ever seen one that color before and the rider is outstanding."

"The rider is my brother, Sir," Scott answered with a smile. "Yes, Johnny is impressive with horses, both riding and breaking them. I don't know of anyone better."

"I'm anxious to meet your…brother," Harlan said as they moved toward the arch. Yes, he was very anxious to meet Johnny Madrid. He had been trying to have him killed long enough. It was time to meet the man that was keeping his grandson away from him.

..********

Johnny slowed as he got to the arch and trotted into the yard. He'd seen the buggy coming and wanted to get to the house ahead of Scott and old man Garrett.

Pedro ran out of the barn and took Barranca's reins. "I'll take care of him for you, Juanito. You will be busy with Senor Scott's abuelo."

"Gracias, Pedro."

Johnny looked toward the arch and then quickly walked into the house. Rushing into the Great Room, he found Murdoch standing near the fireplace.

"They're here," Johnny blurted out, feeling a little nervous.

Murdoch straightened up and walked to the French doors. Taking a door handle in each hand, he opened the doors wide and stepped out as the buggy came to a stop in front of the house.

Scott jumped down and walked around to help the older man. Looking up, he saw both his father and brother waiting for them.

Murdoch walked forward, extending his hand. "Harlan, welcome to Lancer."

"Murdoch," Harlan took the offered hand, "it's good to finally be here."

Harlan turned slightly to look at the dark-haired boy standing behind Murdoch. The first thought that went through his mind was that the boy had the darkest blue eyes he had ever seen. The second thing was that this young boy couldn't be the cold-blooded killer that he had heard so much about. Lastly, he thought that this … this boy was the obstacle that was keeping his grandson from him.

Johnny took a step forward. He had been watching old man Garrett's eyes. Johnny had learned long ago that the eyes truly were the windows to the soul. What he saw in Harlan Garrett's eyes was evil, pure evil. He'd seen those same eyes on some of the deadliest killers he'd ever met. Those eyes told Johnny something else, Harlan Garrett could never be trusted.

Scott looked at Johnny, and a brief frown crossed his face. He saw the way his brother was looking at his grandfather. Scott knew that look. It was the same look Johnny had when he was facing another man in a gunfight.

Scott moved forward and took Johnny's arm and pulled him to his side. "Come here, little brother. I want you to meet my grandfather," Scott said with a smile.

Johnny dropped his head and took a breath. When he raised his head, he was smiling. He let Scott pull him toward the grey-haired man.

"Grandfather, this is Johnny. Johnny, this is my grandfather, Harlan Garrett."

Johnny reached out his right hand. "Mr. Garrett, Scott's talked my… ear off about you. It's nice to meet you."

Harlan shook Johnny's hand. "Yes, Scotty's half-brother, Johnny Madrid."

Murdoch stiffened, as did Scott. Johnny was about to respond when Scott spoke up, "It's not Madrid anymore, Grandfather. Johnny goes by Lancer now."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry," Harlan nodded. "Scotty has written to me often about you. Now, let's see your mother was a foreigner wasn't she."

Johnny saw Murdoch moving forward when he answered, "Yes, my mother was Mexican."

Harlan nodded.

"You know you're becoming well known, young man. Even as far as Denver people are talking about your exploits, it would seem your reputation is growing," Harlan said with a slight smile. "I dare say that the name Madrid is a household word all across the west at present."

Johnny didn't know what to say. He knew his name would spread by word of mouth from one gunfighter to another. The thought of everyone talking about him had never occurred to him. He was sure nothing anyone said about him was flattering.

"Grandfather, let me show you to your room," Scott quickly interceded, taking the bags. "You can freshen up and rest before dinner."

"Yes, I'd like that, Scotty," Harlan replied as he turned away from Johnny and started toward the French doors, following his grandson.

Murdoch watched Scott and Harlan enter the house. He looked back at his youngest son and didn't know what to say to the boy. He knew Harlan was going to be a problem for him; he didn't realize Harlan was going to be a problem for Johnny as well.

"Come on, son," Murdoch said putting an arm around Johnny's shoulder, walking into the house with him.

Johnny stopped and pulled back.

"Murdoch," Johnny looked into the Great Room making sure neither Scott or his grandfather could hear him. "I don't trust old man Garrett. I don't know why he's here, but I don't trust him. I've known men like him before, and there's something … something about him."

Murdoch frowned. "What do you mean?"

Johnny shook his head. "It's his eyes when he looked at you and then at me. I've seen men with those eyes. I faced men with those eyes."

Murdoch looked at his young son. He had learned in the few short months they had been together that Johnny's instincts were not to be dismissed.

"We'll keep an eye on him, son. I don't want to ruin this visit for your brother," Murdoch said retaking Johnny's shoulders.

Johnny nodded and walked into the house with his father.

..********

Johnny was saddling Barranca the next morning when Leon Fergus rode in. Seeing Johnny, Leon jumped down from his horse and walked over to him with a smile

"Hey, Johnny," the red-headed boy called out.

"Hey, Leon," Johnny answered leading Barranca behind him. "What brings you out here again?"

"Sheriff Crawford sent you a message. Said to give it to only you," Leon answered, proud of himself for delivering the message. He'd been happy to bring the note and secretly hoped Johnny would give him another dollar tip.

Johnny read the note, before putting the slip of paper in his pocket. Remembering the boy standing in front of him, he reached in his pocket, pulling out a $5 gold piece. He looked at the coin before flipping it to the boy.

Leon caught the coin; his eyes went wide when he realized what it was. "That's too much, Johnny."

"Naw, it's not. Go on and be careful riding back," Johnny answered. "Oh, and Leon, tell Val tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing, Johnny, and thanks. Thanks a lot," Leon said as he mounted and rode away.

Johnny turned back to Barranca and was rubbing the horse's neck when he saw Scott coming toward him. Scott was smiling, and there was a spring in his step. He was happy his grandfather was here.

"Where are you off to?" Johnny asked.

"Grandfather has some telegrams he needs to send. I'm driving him into town. Murdoch has asked that I pick up the mail I forgot to get yesterday, and Teresa has some things she needs from the Mercantile. What about you? Do you need anything?" Scott concluded.

"Nope, I'm good," Johnny answered. "Murdoch has me checking the fence line on the south range."

"Who's going with you?" Scott asked looking around the yard.

"Walt and Joe are saddling their horses. Who are you taking with you?"

"I'm not sure. I'll ask Cipriano who's available," Scott answered, knowing that both of them were getting tired of having to take extra men with them wherever they went.

Scott and Johnny heard the front door to the house open and then close. Harlan squinted as he walked out into the bright sunlight.

Scott waved to his grandfather.

"Scotty, are you ready?" the sound of the man's voice grated on Johnny's nerves.

"I'm getting the buggy now, Grandfather," Scott answered. "I need to speak with Cipriano to see who he can send with us as an escort."

"Escort?" Harlan asked. "We're just going into town. Surely we don't need an escort."

Scott glanced at Johnny and then back to his grandfather. "We've had some problems lately and having extra men with us would be advisable."

"Problems? What type of problems?" Harlan asked with concern in his voice.

"Someone has been taking shots at us. It's happened twice this week. Once when Johnny and I were coming back from doing repairs on a bridge and then the next day here at the house. No one has been seriously hurt so far," Scott answered watching the alarm in his grandfather's face. "The first time, Johnny was thrown, but thankfully not too badly injured."

"Why would someone be shooting at you, my boy? Your brother I can see, but not you, Scotty," Harlan hissed.

"Grandfather," Scott replied, "whoever is shooting at us is after Lancers. I'm a Lancer."

"Yes, of course," Harlan said apologetically. "I just meant that… well, I don't want to see you hurt if someone is after your brother."

Johnny listened to the conversation between Scott and his grandfather. Garrett wasn't saying anything Johnny hadn't already thought.

Johnny didn't wait for Scott's response. He swung up into the saddle. "I'll see you later."

"Johnny!" Scott called out, but his brother was already halfway to the arch. Scott looked around to see Walt and Joe riding after him.

Scott turned to Harlan, "Grandfather, that was uncalled for."

"Uncalled for? I don't think so, Scotty. Your brother is dangerous and has led a dark life. I don't want to see you hurt because of him," Harlan responded. "You must admit, Scotty, that life here has enough perils without Johnny Madrid's past threatening you and everyone on this ranch."

"His name is Lancer, Grandfather, and I trust you to remember that," Scott warned as he turned toward the barn. He didn't want to discuss Johnny.

Harlan watched Scott stomp off toward the barn. A small smile formed on his lips. Planting the seeds of doubt was his first step in separating his grandson from his brother and then from Lancer itself.

..********

The ride into town was quiet. Scott and Harlan hadn't spoken three words to each other.

Behind the buggy, Slim and Jacobs followed as escorts.

Harlan was content to leave Scott alone with his thoughts. Perhaps, Scott was thinking about what Harlan had said about the half-breed. By the time Harlan Garrett was finished, he knew in his heart that Scott would be returning to Boston with him.

Once in town, Scott stopped the buggy in front of the Mercantile.

Scott looked at the man that had raised him and sighed. "Grandfather, I'm sorry, but I don't want ever to hear you talk about Johnny like that again."

"I'm sorry as well," Harlan apologized. "I'll respect your wishes, Scotty. I won't say another word against Johnny. I don't want to ruin my visit with you."

Scott smiled, "Thank you. Now, I have errands to run. The telegraph office is further down on the right. I'll meet you back here in, say, an hour and we can have lunch.

"That sounds fine. After I tend to my business, I want to look around the Mercantile, so meeting here in an hour should be satisfactory," Harlan replied, starting to step down from the buggy. Scott hurried around, helping the older man down.

Harlan set out toward the telegraph office. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Scott disappear into the Mercantile. Harlan quickly crossed the street, heading for the hotel.

Walking into the hotel, Harlan immediately saw the man he was looking for.

..********

Jack Belcher sat in a comfortable chair in the hotel lobby. Since his arrival in town a week ago he'd been a busy man.

Harlan Garrett's instruction had been to stir things up at Lancer. Belcher's first order of business was to hire three men who could help him do just that.

The men Belcher hired were short of money as well as brains. He'd ordered the men to fire on Lancer's hands but not to wound or kill anyone. His instructions had been clear when it came to Lancer's oldest son. The blond-haired boy wasn't to be harmed under any circumstances. They hadn't needed to know why.

It wasn't two days after hiring the men that he learned that one of Lancer's hands had ridden into town for the Doctor and the Sheriff. Word quickly spread that someone had ambushed both of the Lancer sons. Johnny had been thrown from his horse and hurt. It was just plain luck that Scott hadn't been injured.

Fortunately, the next time they'd fired on Lancer, things had gone much better. Three shots were fired on the hacienda, and no one was hurt, just as Belcher's employer had instructed.

Looking around the hotel lobby, Belcher smiled. Harlan Garrett strolled in as if he owned the place. Belcher was anxious to move forward with more aggressive measures against Lancer. It had been twenty-two years since he'd last worked for Harlan Garrett in the San Joaquin Valley. He may have failed then, but he didn't plan to fail now.

Belcher stood up when Harlan approached him.

"Belcher." Harlan extended his hand. "Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

"Mr. Garrett," Belcher said as he shook the older man's hand. "My room is at the top of the stairs," Belcher answered, leading the way.

Harlan didn't waste any time once the room door closed. He tossed his hat on the bed before speaking.

"Belcher, I told you no harm was to come to my grandson. I heard about the ambush a few days ago."

"I've talked to the men again, Mr. Garrett." Belcher jumped to his defense. "Their intent was not to cause Madrid injury or to endanger Scott. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Harlan responded, turning to look out the window. He pushed the curtain aside to see Scott walking down the boardwalk toward the post office.

"When do you want the men to become more… aggressive?" Belcher cautiously asked.

"Soon," Harlan turned from the window and smiled. "Soon, Belcher, very soon, and when I do give the order, I will expect them to be carried out without endangering Scotty."

Thinking, Harlan turned back to the window.

"Belcher," Harlan said still looking out the window, "I met Madrid yesterday. I must admit he isn't what I expected."

"How so?" Belcher asked, watching Harlan's every move.

Harlan thought for a moment, "He doesn't look like the killer I'd expected. There were moments I forgot who he was. Then I would find him staring at me. He can look at you with a smile on his face, but his eyes… Belcher, his eyes."

"What about them?" Belcher had never seen Harlan Garrett like this. The man was agitated.

"I'm not sure how to describe his eyes," Harlan walked back to the center of the room looking at Belcher. "I do know that he's dangerous. Dangerous enough that he's putting my grandson at risk. No, Belcher, Madrid must go, one way or the other."

"Wilson did accomplish one thing," Belcher smiled. "Gunfighters are coming into town regularly looking for him. Two more arrived yesterday. We may not have to do anything about Madrid."

"True, very true. However, I do not leave things to chance." Harlan paced the room. "If the gunfighters don't resolve our problem, then I will take matters into my own hands. In the meantime, I believe a few more distractions may be needed at Lancer."

"Yes, sir," Belcher answered with a smile. "I'll have my men provide more 'distractions.' Do you want me to hire more professional men?"

"Not yet," Harlan answered as he picked up his hat from the bed and turned to the door. "By the time I return to Boston, Scotty will be by my side, and that half-breed brother of his will be either be dead or gone from Lancer."

Harlan opened the door and stepped into the hall. He smiled thinking of how he was going to make sure Madrid suffered before he died. His smile grew wider when he thought of how he would be the one to comfort his grandson.

The ride back to the ranch for Scott and Harlan was more relaxed than the trip to town. The two had eaten a leisurely lunch at the café, the entire time talking about Boston. It seemed Scott had forgiven his grandfather for his earlier words against Johnny. To Harlan's delight, the two were laughing and joking when they arrived back at the ranch.

..********

Dinner that night was a little more relaxed than the night before. When everyone retired to the Great Room for after dinner drinks, Harlan listened to the conversation between Murdoch and his sons.

Harlan had been watching Johnny all evening. He was quiet, but not knowing the boy he didn't know if that was usual or not. He was careful not to mention the two gunfighters in Green River.

It was a little after 8:00 when Johnny excused himself, saying he was going to bed. He said his goodnights and went upstairs.

Harlan looked at the clock. "So early?"

"We get up early here, Grandfather," Scott responded. "We rise before the sun."

"Well, I suppose I should retire also. I have to admit I am tired," Harlan stood and stretched. "Good night, everyone."

Scott stood, "Good night, Sir. You don't have to get up as early as the rest of us, so feel free to sleep in."

"Thank you, Scotty," Harlan smiled at this grandson. "I may do that."

..********

Long before the sun was up Johnny eased his bedroom door open and slipped into the hallway. He made his way down the hall, out of the house, and to the barn. Quickly saddling Barranca, he led the horse out of the barn.

Johnny waved to the sentries on the roof of the house and at the arch as he rode toward Green River.

The sun had risen by the time Johnny rode into town. He took comfort in knowing that Val would be there waiting for him. If things went wrong, he would have someone he knew and trusted watching out for him.

Johnny thought about his family. A real family was something new to him. He had known the feeling only a few times in his life and then it hadn't lasted. There was only one person who had remained a constant through it all, and that was Val.

Riding slowly into town, Johnny pulled his hat down so that it shaded his eyes. He scanned the street as he rode. People on the boardwalk were watching him.

He stopped outside the saloon and swung his leg over the saddle horn. Sliding to the ground, he once again scanned the street.

Johnny saw Val walking toward him. The look on his friend's face was one of concern and worry.

"Val," Johnny said tipping his head up so that Val could see his eyes.

"They're inside," Val said. "Didn't expect you this early." Val looked around. "Murdoch and Scott not with you?"

Johnny shook his head. "Lit out before they were up. Expect they'll be coming when they find out I'm gone.

"You gotta' stop doing that, boy," Val frowned. "You have folks that care about you now. You can't keep running off by yourself."

"Val, I know they care. I just … I don't want them to see Madrid again," Johnny sighed. "I don't want their last memory of me being gunned down in the street."

"What about me?" Val swallowed hard, his voice a little higher than he intended. "You think it's easy for me to watch you face down another gunhawk?"

Johnny looked at the hurt in Val's eyes. He knew it had never been easy for Val to watch him in a gunfight. It had never been easy for Val to take care of him when he was hurt, or shot, or sick. Val had told him that was what family did. They took care of the ones they loved.

"I'm sorry, Papi," Johnny said quietly. "I know it isn't easy for you and never has been. Guess you took on more than you bargained for when you rode into my life all those years ago."

"I wouldn't change that day for anything," Val answered.

Johnny smiled, "Me either."

Val looked at the ground and then back up, fighting the emotions welling in his eyes.

Johnny couldn't stand it any longer. He had business to attend to. Emotions were getting in the way of what was needed.

"Buy me a drink later?" Johnny asked, trying to change the subject and the feelings he was having.

Val nodded. "I'll have a drink with you, but you're buying. I bought the last round."

"You sure?" The corner of Johnny's mouth came up.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Val smiled briefly then said, "I talked to them before I sent you that note. Their names are Taylor and Harris. You want me to let them know you're here?"

The smile slid off Johnny's face as he nodded.

Val turned toward the saloon doors.

..********

Murdoch walked to the stove and picked up the coffee pot. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he started toward the table when he saw Scott coming down the back stairs.

"Good morning, sir," Scott said as he picked up a cup and reached for the coffee pot.

"Morning," Murdoch responded in a low grumble. Looking toward the stairs, he asked, "Is your brother up?"

"I didn't hear him this morning, and he didn't come into my room," Scott answered and then frowned, "I didn't check on him again this morning. You don't suppose…"

"No," Murdoch said. "We've been through this before. He'll be down shortly."

Murdoch and Scott looked at each other before both started for the stairs. This time it was Scott in the lead and Murdoch right behind him.

Murdoch's emotions were once again in turmoil. Unlike before, he knew what he was going to find when he opened the bedroom door.

Scott had the door open by the time Murdoch reached it.

Bedding lay crumpled on the bed and the floor. There was no sign of Johnny.

A piece of paper lay on the nightstand. Scott recognized it as being like the note the Fergus boy had delivered before the gunfight with Yokley. Scott walked across the room and picked it up.

Scott read the note and handed it to Murdoch. There was only one word on it – 'Pistoleros.'

"He's gone to face the two men Val told us about," Scott said shaking his head.

"Saddle the horses, son, and get Cipriano to send three men with us," Murdoch said as he turned, leaving the room.

Scott stood still for a moment, his eyes closed. "I'm going to strangle you, little brother," Scott said aloud. "If you're still alive by the time I get there, I'm going to strangle you."

Scott didn't see his grandfather standing on the stairs with a smile on his face.

Less than five minutes after entering the saloon, Val walked out with a frown on his face. He looked at Johnny, held up one finger, then looked around the street.

Johnny knew what Val was telling him. There was only one gunhawk in the saloon. The other man was most probably sitting up on one of the roofs with a rifle ready to take him down if his friend failed.

Johnny knew Val would watch his back. He'd deal with the second man after he took care of the first.

Watching the gunhawks walk out of the saloon and into the street, Johnny looked around again. He saw Sam Jenkins walking down the boardwalk toward him. Sam stopped halfway between Johnny and the gunfighter who was moving into the street.

Johnny waited until Val got to Sam. He suspected Val was telling Sam to get inside until it was over. Sam nodded and stepped into the closest doorway.

Johnny stood in the middle of the street waiting; watching the other man closely. The entire time he was wondering where the man's partner was.

The sound of horses thundering down the street told him that Murdoch and Scott had arrived.

"Are you Taylor or Harris?" Johnny asked showing no emotion.

"Harris."

Johnny only nodded. "Where's your friend?"

"Around," Harris answered with a grin on his face.

"I bet," Johnny relaxed his shoulders. "Don't suppose there's any chance of talking you out of this?"

Harris seemed to think that funny and huffed, "I heard you had gotten soft, Madrid. No, no chance at all."

"Not soft, Harris," Johnny said. "Your decision. Any time you're ready. You're calling the tune.'"

Jake Harris looked into the cold, blue eyes of the man he had heard about for years. Johnny Madrid was a legend and the best there was. Some said faster than Wes Hardin. Madrid was what every gunhawk strived to be. Now here he was, Jake Harris, facing Madrid and those blue eyes.

Johnny let everything around him fade away as he waited for Harris to make his move. The small 'tell' in Harris's eyes told him when to draw. The Colt was an extension of his hand; it was out and shooting fire before Harris knew what hit him. Johnny took a step to his right out of habit.

As Harris fell, and before Johnny could raise his eyes to the roofs around him, a rifle shot rang out. Johnny felt the searing pain in his left leg as the impact of the bullet spun him around and threw him backward onto the ground.

Val was trying to watch the gunfight and at the same time look out for Taylor. He heard the shot from Johnny's gun even before he realized Harris had tried to draw.

The report of the rifle and Johnny falling diverted Val's attention, but not for long. He looked to where the shot had come from and fired when Taylor stood to shoot again.

It sounded like a battlefield as shots rang out from all directions. Taylor tumbled off the roof. When the sound faded away, and the smoke cleared, Taylor was laying in the street in front of the saloon. No one would ever know whose bullet brought an end to Taylor's life. The Undertaker later told Val that there six bullets in Taylor, one for each of the older Lancers, the three men they had brought with them, and Val.

Once the firing stopped, Scott screamed his brother's name, "Johnny!" He ran into the street and went to his knees beside his brother.

Johnny tried to push himself up and fell back down, with his hand over the bullet wound in his thigh.

"Lay still," Scott bellowed with a hitch in his voice. Scott looked at his brother and shook his head. "I swore if you were still alive after the gunfight, I was going to strangle you. Do you know how scared we were for you?"

Johnny grimaced, both at the pain in his leg and the hurt in his brother's voice. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

Sam was beside them now, pushing Scott aside. He moved Johnny's hand from the wound.

"Take him to my office," Sam ordered.

Frank, Joe, and Juan had ridden into town with the Lancers. Frank and Juan bent down and pulled Johnny to his feet. Johnny balanced on his right leg as the two men helped him to Sam's office. Sam and two very worried Lancers followed while Joe rounded up their horses.

With Johnny on one of the examining tables, the hands moved out of the small room. Sam moved to the table and began unbuttoning the conchos on Johnny's pants. With the leg fully exposed, the extent of the damage could be seen. The bullet had hit mid-thigh.

Sam gently lifted the leg and looked at the back side. He frowned when he didn't find an exit wound.

"The bullet's still in there," Sam said as he applied pressure to the open and bleeding wound. He looked at the pale face of the young man who had long ago become his best customer. "I'm going to have to sedate you before I remove it."

Johnny looked into Sam's eyes. He trusted this man but not enough to let Sam knock him out.

Sam could see the indecision in Johnny's eyes.

"No, John," Sam stated. "The bullet has to come out, and I will not do it unless I sedate you. There will be no discussion on that point."

"Sam," Johnny leaned back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling, "just take it out. I've…"

"Yes, I know. You've had worse, but you were alone before," Sam's hands were gripping the edge of the table trying to control his temper. "You are not alone now. You have your family here to watch out for you. There are three more men just outside my office, and there's Val. Don't you understand; we… all of us will protect you."

Johnny closed his eyes and nodded. The next thing he knew Sam had a needle in one hand and his arm in the other. All he felt was a tiny pinprick, and the feeling of warmth as the morphine started to spread through his body.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Johnny's head lolled to one side, and his body relaxed. He turned his attention to the young man's leg. The wound wasn't the worst he had seen on the boy, but it would be painful for some time.

Sam wasn't looking forward to telling Johnny that he was going to have to stay off the leg for at least a week. He smiled knowing the arguments this young man would throw at him.

..********

Sam thought about what he was going to say as he wiped his hands on a clean towel and looked down at his sleeping patient. He would tell the family that "he's going to be fine," just like he'd said so many times before. He didn't know how many more times Johnny would have an angel sitting on his shoulder during a gunfight.

The day would come when he would have to tell the family that Johnny wasn't going to be fine and that there was nothing more that he could do. He prayed that day wouldn't come for a very long time.

"He's going to be just fine," Sam announced looking at the faces of three worried men who greeted him the moment he set foot out of the examination room. Sam knew that Murdoch, Scott, and Val had been pacing the floor for more than an hour.

Before anyone could ask, Sam continued, "He's going to be in a lot of pain. He'll have to stay off the leg for at least a week. After that only short walks. I doubt he'll feel like much more than that anyway and no riding for at least two weeks. I suggest you get him home before he wakes up. The trip will be painful if he's awake."

Murdoch and Scott looked at each other. That pretty well covered all their questions. Scott started to ask about fever.

"If he develops a fever, Teresa and Maria know what to do. If it gets bad, send for me," Sam cocked his head and smiled. This wasn't his first rodeo with John Lancer.

Murdoch cleared his throat, "Can we see him?"

"Of course," Sam answered as he stepped aside for the three men to pass him.

Scott arranged for a rented buckboard and Sam loaned them one of his mattresses. Joe, Frank, and Juan loaded a still unconscious Johnny into the back of the wagon. Thirty minutes after Sam had completed the operation, the Lancers were on their way home.

In front of the hotel, Jack Belcher observed the Lancers leave town. He, like most of Green River, watched the gunfight. Belcher, for the second time that week, had seen the speed of Madrid's gun and the death it dealt out.

Belcher was impressed and at the same time concerned. Impressed with the skill he had witnessed, and worried that should anything go wrong with their plans, Madrid would be a dangerous adversary.

..********

Juan had ridden ahead to tell everyone what happened in town.

The buckboard and its precious cargo rumbled into the yard in front of the hacienda. Teresa and Maria rushed out to meet it. Both women knew what to do once the wagon arrived.

Harlan hurried to the veranda. Standing back, he watched the ladies give instructions and men carried them out. Slowly, Johnny was lifted from the wagon and carried into the house.

Harlan hurried to his grandson.

"Scotty, what happened? Is John alright?"

Scott kept his eyes on his brother, barely hearing his grandfather. Harlan touched his arm, and he realized for the first time the man was standing beside him.

"What did you say, Sir?"

"Get hold of yourself, Scotty. Come inside and let me get you a drink," Harlan said taking Scott's arm and ushering him into the Great Room. "Sit down before you fall."

Scott sat on the sofa and leaned back.

Harlan handed Scott a glass of whiskey. "Drink this. Now tell me what's happening. What happened to Johnny?"

Scott took the glass of whiskey and drank half of it in one gulp. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "There was a gunfight in town. Johnny was wounded."

"A gunfight? Another gunfight?" Harlan stated. "My Lord, Scotty, you weren't involved, were you? He didn't endanger you?"

"No, Grandfather, I wasn't involved… well, until the initial gunfight was over. A second man was hiding and tried to gun Johnny down. I, along with Murdoch, and the hands fired on the man. He won't be trying to back shoot anyone again." Scott's voice told of how proud he was of his father and the men from the ranch that had helped his brother.

"Violence. Such violence," Harlan spouted off. "Things like this wouldn't happen in Boston."

Scott looked at Harlan. "No. Gunfights wouldn't happen in Boston, but we are not in Boston. We're in California, and unfortunately, they do happen here and far more frequently than any of us would like, especially to my brother."

Harlan knew he needed to change his approach. "Yes, I'm sure it does. I'm sorry, Scotty. I worry about you."

"I know," Scott relaxed, "but it's Johnny that we should be concerned about. Today was the fifth gunfight in the last three weeks. He's not had a problem outdrawing any of them so far. I'm worried… we're all worried that someone faster will call him out."

"Is that conceivable? From what I've heard, there is no one faster with a gun than Johnny Madrid," Harlan stated.

"Johnny says there is always someone faster. He just hasn't met him yet," Scott took another sip of his whiskey.

The Lancer hands that had taken Johnny to his room came back down the stairs, followed by Maria.

Scott stood up and looked at her. She saw the question in his eyes.

"Tu hermano esta bien, Senor Scott. The nino sleeps now. Come I will fix you something to eat and then you can rest also." Maria held out an arm to Scott and wrapped it around his shoulder moving him toward the kitchen. _(Tu hermano esta bien - Your brother is alright)_

Harlan stood back and watched as the servant treated his grandson like one of her children. He seethed inside. Scott was his, not hers, and certainly not Murdoch Lancers.

As Harlan followed Scott and Maria into the kitchen, he heard Maria say that Murdoch was sitting with the boy. Scott nodded, not saying anything.

After eating a light lunch, Scott excused himself and said he was going to lie down.

Harlan decided to stretch his legs by taking a walk. He slowly walked around the front of the house and the yard watching the men at work.

Yes, Lancer was a beautiful place, but it wasn't Boston. Boston is where he and his grandson belonged.

..********

"How is he, sir?" Scott asked easing into Johnny's room. Murdoch was sitting beside the bed. Scott moved to the opposite side, pulling up a chair.

"Still sleeping," Murdoch answered, wiping his face with his hand. "I'll never understand him, Scott. What if we hadn't been there?"

Scott sat down and shook his head.

"I don't know why he feels he has to do these things alone. I suppose he's been alone so much of his life that he doesn't know how to act with a family. Maybe he still doesn't trust having a family to watch out for him."

A moan from the bed caught their attention. Johnny was waking up. Murdoch reached out a hand, touching his son's forehead.

"He's got a fever, but we knew that was going to happen. You had better tell Teresa and Maria. They know what to do," Murdoch said, knowing that the two women had taken care of Johnny so many times now they'd lost count.

"Why don't you go? Get something to eat and some rest. I'll sit with him for a while," Scott said taking his brother's hand.

"Scott," Murdoch stood up, "thank you, son."

"For what?"

"For being here and for caring. It means a lot to me, and I know it means a lot to your brother."

Scott dipped his head, "It means a lot to me also, Sir… Murdoch."

Another moan and then a groan came from the dark-haired boy in the bed. Murdoch and Scott both knew that when Johnny woke up, he would be a bear. Murdoch turned and left the two brothers alone.

Scott continued to hold his brother's hand. "When are you truly going to start trusting us, little brother?" Scott asked knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

..********

During the week Johnny was in bed, things had been quiet. Murdoch wasn't complaining. He had his hands full with his youngest son.

Murdoch was insistent that Sam's instructions be followed to the letter. Sam said a week, and Murdoch was going to make sure Johnny stayed in bed a full week. Naturally, Johnny was bucking him at every turn. The young man was irritable and restless; making it known to everyone he was tired of staying in bed.

The day Sam let Johnny out of bed, there was no stopping him from getting dressed and anxiously waiting for help to go downstairs.

With the help of both Teresa and Murdoch, Johnny made his way down the stairs. The moment he collapsed on the sofa, Johnny knew he'd overdone it. He was exhausted, but it felt good to be out of bed and out of his room.

"Comfortable?" Murdoch smiled watching Johnny stretch with a sigh.

"Oh, yeah," Johnny laughed. "It sure does feels good to be out of that room."

"Does your leg hurt?"

"Kinda' sore, but it doesn't hurt unless I move it too fast," Johnny answered as he rubbed the bandage over the wound.

"Teresa is going to bring you something cold to drink and some cookies. Do you need anything else? Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine, Murdoch," Johnny answered. "Stop frettin'. You got other things to do besides tending to me. Go on and do what you gotta' do."

"I have some things to talk over with Cipriano," Murdoch said as he turned and left his son resting. "I'll be outside if you need me."

A few minutes later, Teresa brought in a glass of lemonade and cookies. Finding Johnny sleeping; she sat them on the table so that Johnny could reach them when he woke up.

Harlan watched as Johnny was helped down the stairs and to the sofa. He felt some relief that Madrid was finally getting back on his feet. His plans had been delayed long enough. Still, there was one thing he could do to stir the pot himself.

Scott didn't realize Johnny was downstairs when he came in. Harlan caught him before he could see his brother lying on the sofa.

"Scotty," Harlan greeted his grandson a little louder than he normally would. "I hope you didn't have any more trouble today."

"No, Sir," Scott answered, taking his hat off. "It was quiet today. We haven't had any reports of additional attacks on the men."

"Thank goodness. It's a miracle no one's been hurt thus far. Don't you find it strange though that there haven't been any more shootings since Johnny's been confined to the house?" Harlan questioned.

Johnny woke up when Harlan and Scott started talking. The mention of his name caught his attention.

"Yes, we've been fortunate. However, I believe whoever is behind this doesn't want anyone dead. They want to keep everyone on edge," Scott commented.

"Scotty, are you sure that the shootings have nothing to do with your brother? It would be tragic if someone were hurt or killed because they were after Madrid… I mean your brother. As I've already told you, I'm afraid for your safety," Harlan said as he put an arm around Scott's shoulder.

"Grandfather, it may be nothing more than coincidence that Johnny was present during the shootings. No, Johnny's not the target… this time," Scott said convincingly.

"He's put you in danger before though, hasn't he, Scotty?" Harlan asked, glancing toward the sofa.

Scott answered with a smile on his face; a smile Johnny couldn't see, "When Johnny's around, there's always danger."

"I could use a cup of coffee," Harlan said guiding Scott toward the kitchen. "Come on, my boy."

Johnny lay on the sofa and took a deep breath. Letting it out, he sighed. _"When Johnny's around, there's always danger,"_ Scott had said.

Suddenly, Johnny felt deep sorrow. Was someone shooting at the hands because of him? He knew his presence on the ranch was going to put them all in danger at some point. Hadn't he told Murdoch that from the start.

Johnny knew he should leave, but he couldn't bring himself to go. For the first time in his life, he felt love, both in the giving and receiving of it. The question was, did he love them enough to leave and take the danger with him?

Johnny pulled himself into a sitting position and looked around the room. He knew he should wait for someone to help him, but he had taken care of himself for a long time and could now.

Standing on shaky legs, Johnny limped across the room to the French doors. He needed some air. It took some doing, but he finally made it to the doors and opened them wide. Johnny stepped out and took a deep breath.

"What are you doing up?"

Teresa's voice caught him off guard, and he almost fell when he turned around.

"I needed some air," Johnny snapped.

"You should have asked for help!" She was by his side in just a few steps.

Johnny pushed her away. "I can do it. Just leave me alone," Johnny snapped again, this time sorry for his words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Teresa lowered her arms to her side and tears formed in her eyes. "I only wanted to help," she said with a catch in her voice.

Johnny lowered his head, ashamed at the way he had treated her.

"I'm sorry, querida. I know you wanted to help. I guess I've been a bear the last few days."

Teresa smiled, "It's alright. I understand. Are you hungry? Lunch is ready."

Johnny nodded, "Yeah, I'm…."

He never finished the sentence. The sound of a shot and a bullet hitting the door frame near them sent Johnny to the floor taking Teresa with him. A second shot broke the glass in the French door sending shards of glass everywhere. Johnny covered Teresa with his body.

Scott ran out of the kitchen to see what was happening as a third bullet plowed into the table behind the sofa. Seeing Johnny on the floor and Teresa under him, Scott made his way to the open doors using the wall for cover.

"Johnny!" Scott called out as he got close to the two people on the floor.

Johnny raised his head and looked at Scott. Scott could see blood on his brother's cheek.

"Get her out of here," Johnny said as he eased himself off of Teresa.

Scott reached for Teresa and pulled her toward him. Johnny rolled onto his back, looking down at his leg. A tinge of red was showing through his pants.

The sound of running feet drew Johnny's attention away from Scott and Teresa and to the men that were now coming through the doors. Murdoch was beside him in an instant.

Murdoch reached down and picked his son up in his arms, carrying him to the sofa. Laying him down, Murdoch looked around to see who else was hurt. Scott was holding Teresa in his arms, and there was blood on the sleeve of her blouse.

"Teresa!" Murdoch was beside her in three long strides. "Are you hurt? The blood…"

Teresa looked at the blood on her sleeve and shook her head.

"It's not mine. It's Johnny's. I think the glass cut his cheek." Teresa pulled away from Scott and threw her arms around Murdoch's waist, still trembling.

Johnny pulled himself up so that he could see over the back of the sofa. Three of the most important people in the world to him stood to one side of the room huddled together, consoling each other.

Johnny let himself slip back onto the sofa and squeezed his eyes shut. Now they knew for sure who the gunmen were after.

Murdoch looked around the room. The French doors were in shambles; glass covered the floor. He looked at the table behind the sofa and the bullet hole in it. All he could think was that the hole could have been in one of his children.

Maria was now standing with them. Murdoch pushed the young girl into Maria's arms. He walked back to the sofa and looked down at his youngest son. The cut on Johnny's cheek had almost stopped bleeding.

"Let's get you back upstairs," Murdoch said with little emotion in his voice.

Johnny looked at his father's face. Murdoch Lancer was both angry and afraid. Johnny realized that his father was angry at him and wondered if the old man had been afraid for him or of him.

"Scott," Murdoch called out to get his oldest son's attention, "help me get John back upstairs. Maria, please take care of Teresa. Cipriano, would you get some men in here to clean this mess up?"

At Murdoch's barked orders everyone seemed to be in motion at once.

As Johnny was helped up the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder to see the activity in the Great Room. Harlan Garrett stood to one side of the room. The older man's eyes were glued to

him.

Johnny had met some men in his life he considered to be the spawn of the devil. Now, he was convinced that Harlan Garrett was one of those men. Johnny didn't know the how or the why of it yet, but he would bet his third of Lancer that Garrett was behind the problems Lancer was having.

Looking back once more a Garrett, a sudden thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He would bet the entire ranch that Garrett had been behind it all; Pardee, Wilson, and whatever was happening now.

Scott was on Johnny's left going up the stairs. Johnny looked at his brother. What would it do to Scott if Garrett were behind everything?

..********

Once Johnny was lowered onto the side of the bed, Scott helped him take off his boots. Murdoch pulled the covers down and got a nightshirt for his son.

Johnny was quiet until he was back in bed and covered up. Murdoch started to turn and leave the room when Johnny spoke, "I'm sorry, Murdoch."

Murdoch stopped at the door with his back to Johnny. Scott was beside the bed, looking between his father and brother.

Murdoch turned and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them and said, "I'll send Maria up to tend that cut on your cheek and change the bandage on your leg. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Johnny looked down at his hands folded across his stomach. He shook his head.

Murdoch turned again and left the room.

Scott frowned, looking at his brother, "What was that about?"

Johnny hesitated in answering for a moment, "It's about me, brother. Guess there's no doubt why we have someone shooting at us now. Is there? I mean, every time there's been a shooting I've been there. They're sending me a message, and someone is gonna' get hurt or killed until I listen up and do something about it."

"What exactly are you planning on doing," Scott asked.

"Not sure yet," Johnny shook his head. "Scott, I need to talk to Val. Would you send one of the men into town and ask him to ride out here?"

"I can do that," Scott answered and then looked at his brother's downturned face. "Johnny, I'm not sure what you have planned, but if it means you're leaving Lancer, then you need to rethink the plan. I won't let you leave."

Johnny looked at his brother and smiled, "That so?"

"Yes, it is," Scott placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "We're family, and we will face this together. If someone is after one of us, they are after all of us. I may have to remind our father of that."

"Don't think the old man sees it like that," Johnny bit his lower lip. "There are too many people at risk with me here, and now he realizes it."

"He knew you were a gunfighter when he asked you to come home. He knew who you were when he asked you to sign the partnership agreement."

"Yeah, he knew," Johnny laughed. "Things have changed since then. He didn't bargain on having a dozen gunfighters come calling or to have them keep coming. Scott, I don't know who is behind this, but whoever it is must hate me something fierce."

"Hate you, or hates us all," Scott frowned and thought. "Why would someone want to destroy this family?"

Questions, that's all they had. More questions and no answers, at least for now.

..********

A light tap at the door before it opened was all the warning Johnny got when Val walked in. He had been dozing, but his Colt was in his hand before Val had taken two steps into the room.

Val smiled and nodded, "See your reflexes are still good."

"Good enough to shoot your sorry ass," Johnny huffed. "You know better than to just walk in on me."

"I knocked," Val protested.

"You call that love tap a knock?" Johnny laughed and readjusted the pillow under his leg.

"Frank came into town to get me. Said you wanted to talk," Val pulled a chair closer to the bed.

"Yeah," Johnny answered and looked toward the door. "Val, close the door."

Val cocked his head and looked over his shoulder at the half-open door. He closed it before moving back to his chair.

"What's going on?" Val asked, tossing his hat on the nightstand.

"You hear what happened this morning?" Johnny asked scooting up in the bed.

Val nodded as he reached out and touched the cut on Johnny's cheek. "That hurt?"

"Ain't much doubt now who they're after," Johnny answered slapping Val's hand away. "I almost got Teresa killed today."

"Weren't you doing the shooting," Val responded with a frown. "The way I heard it, you saved Teresa's life by throwing yourself on top of her."

"Wouldn't have had to throw myself on top of her, if I weren't here. They were shooting at me," Johnny growled.

"You thinking about leaving?" Val leaned back in the chair, taking a deep breath.

Johnny didn't answer right away.

"You know Scott ain't gonna' let you do that, don't you?"

Johnny slowly nodded. "He already said that, but Val I can't keep putting them in danger. Someone's gonna' get hurt bad or killed. I couldn't live with myself if that happened."

"You have any idea who has it in for you?"

Johnny laughed, "Pffft, got a pencil and a lot of paper? You know I got a lot of folks wanting to see me dead."

"For someone so young, you have been busy," Val chuckled.

"Anyone new in town?" Johnny changed the subject.

"A few," Val answered. "Ever since Wilson, I've been keeping my eyes open. Carl at the hotel mentioned a fellow that checked in a couple of weeks ago. He says the man has an eastern accent."

Val stood up and walked to the window.

"I've been watching him. He spends his time either at the hotel or the saloon. I've got Hal, at the saloon, keeping an eye on him for me. It seems the man met up with three drifters a couple of weeks ago. Hal thinks he hired them. He said he was too far away to hear anything."

"Three?" Johnny frowned. "It's been three men who have been doing the shooting."

"Could be the same ones," Val said as he turned back to Johnny.

"The fellow who did the hiring have a name?" Johnny asked

"Signed in at the hotel as Jack Belcher," Val answered.

"Belcher," Johnny shook his head. "Name doesn't mean anything to me. Of course, he's probably working for someone else."

Val nodded and watched Johnny's face. "You got an idea who that someone might be?"

Johnny looked up at the closed door and then at his friend. Sighing, "God, I hope I'm wrong."

"Who?" Val could see the anguish in Johnny's eyes.

Johnny closed his eyes. Saying it out loud would make it real. He didn't know if he could handle the consequences of that. Finally, he found a weak voice, "Garrett."

Val sat quietly for a few moments. Slowly, he nodded his head and looked at Johnny.

"Makes sense," Val said softly. "From what you've told me about Garrett and Murdoch, I can see him behind this. He has the money to pull it off."

Johnny let out the breath he was holding. Val could tell there was more.

"What?" Val asked.

"I think he's behind it all. Every bad thing that has ever happened to my old man. I think Harlan Garrett has been pulling strings from the beginning."

Val cocked his head, "What do you mean… the beginning."

There was a hitch in Johnny's breath.

"I think Garrett was behind the raids by Judd Haney, 22 years ago. The attacks forced Murdoch to send Scott's mother away. Garrett was supposed to meet up with her and take her to San Francisco. If she hadn't gone into labor and died, I think the raids would have stopped right then.

From what Murdoch has said, the raids stopped about six months after Catherine died and Scott was born. Scott was in Boston by then.

Then there was my mother."

"You think Garrett had something to do with Maria leaving?" Val shook his head. "That's stretching it, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Val," Johnny shook his head, "maybe. I do think Garrett was bankrolling Pardee. When Pardee failed, I believe he brought in Wilson, or maybe it was Wilson that hired Day. Now, there's this Belcher fellow. It just seems like someone is going through a whole lot of trouble to make Murdoch's life miserable."

"But why come after you?" Val asked watching the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

"Scott," Johnny stated.

Val looked away. The one person that had made the most difference in the boy's life was the cause of the most recent pain. Val felt his chest muscles contract.

Johnny was watching Val. Val knew how much Scott meant to him.

"Val, Scott can't know any of this. If it's Garrett, it'll break his heart. I'd leave here before I'd hurt my brother."

"Hijo, I won't tell him, but if Garrett's behind everything that's happened, Scott's gonna' find out one of these days," Val said and put a hand on Johnny's arm. "In the meantime, we need to do something about Belcher. I'll have Carl at the hotel let me know next time Belcher leaves for the saloon. I'll take a look in his room and see what I can find."

"That's a good idea." Johnny looked toward the window. "Val, I can't stay in this room forever."

"I know you can't, but you don't go out there and get your fool head shot off either."

"I don't know why Garrett hasn't already given the order to have me killed. They've had three chances and could have done it at any time."

"Maybe he just wants you away from Lancer and Scott," Val said. "What would happen if you left Lancer?"

Johnny thought for a moment. "Not sure. I don't know what Scott would do. I want to think he'd stay here with Murdoch. Garrett thinks that with me gone, Scott would go back to Boston."

"Would he?" Val questioned.

"A few months ago, maybe, but not now. Scott loves Lancer. Nothing could make him leave now. I don't think Garrett understands that."

"What would make Scott go back to Boston?"

Johnny had to think. What would make his brother leave Lancer? He thought he knew Scott, but did he?

"I don't know," Johnny finally said.

The two sat for a long time lost in their own thoughts.

"I'm headed back into town. You need anything?" Val asked, standing up.

Johnny shook his head, "Val, Murdoch's not happy about the place being shot up."

"Unhappy enough to ask you to leave or for you to leave on your own?" Val asked knowing how Johnny's mind worked.

When Johnny didn't answer, Val reached down and put a hand on Johnny's shoulder, "Don't go do something you're gonna' regret and don't let that Madrid temper get the best of you. You decide to leave; you come to me. You alright with that?"

Johnny put his hand over Val's hand and nodded.

Val eased out the door and closed it behind him. Johnny looked out the window biting his lower lip. The next move wasn't his to make.

Johnny laid back with his eyes closed, going over everything he and Val had talked about. Val had asked _'What would make Scott go back to Boston?' _ Johnny's answer had been _'I don't know.'_

Suddenly, Johnny shot up in bed, wide-eyed. The corner of his mouth turned up. He did know the answer.

A broad smile was now on Johnny's face. Scott was his brother, his blood kin. Nothing would make his big brother go back to Boston. Even if Johnny were gone or dead, Scott would remain. Scott was a Lancer and Lancer was his home.

..********

It had been four days since the last shooting. Johnny hadn't been out of the house during that time, confirming even more that he was the target of the attacks.

Murdoch had instructed Cipriano to increase the guards on the house and patrols around the grounds. Cipriano suggested putting two of the 'chosen' back inside the house at all times to be near Johnny. Murdoch agreed. The entire ranch seemed to be an armed encampment, reminding everyone of the turbulent days of Pardee.

Scott divided his time between his grandfather and his brother. Harlan had voiced strong concerns that Johnny's presence was once again endangering everyone, especially Scott. He had even suggested, loudly, that Johnny should be sent away for everyone's wellbeing.

Murdoch had put his foot down and almost put his fist into the older man's face. In the end, he told Harlan in no uncertain terms that his younger son wasn't going anywhere.

..********

Johnny swung his legs off the bed and gingerly stood up. He put weight on his leg, testing it out. There was still some soreness, but nothing he couldn't handle.

Walking to the window, Johnny looked out over the yard and corral. Nodding, he decided he'd spent enough time inside, and it was time to face his demons.

Quickly dressing, he put on one of the red shirts Teresa had made him and his calzoneras. Someone was gunning for Johnny Madrid, and they were going to see him in all his glory.

Buckling on his gun belt, Johnny took one more look out his window before heading for the door.

Making his way into the kitchen, spurs ringing, Johnny smiled when Maria turned to look at him. There was a massive smile on her face when she saw him dressed.

"You are better, nino?"

"Si, Mamacita, I'm better. I'm also hungry."

Johnny walked across the kitchen. Putting his arms around Maria, he hugged her and then kissed her cheek.

"Where is everyone?"

"Your Papa and hermano are in the dining room waiting for Senor Scott's abuelo. That man… I don't like him, Juanito. There is something about his eyes when they look at me. Ay, ay, ay," Maria said as she turned back to the stove.

"He's not said something to you to upset you, has he?" Johnny frowned.

"No, not in words. The man does not like me," Maria turned around again and put her hand on the side of Johnny's face. "I do not think he likes you any more than me, nino. He sees us as a threat."

"Threat?" Johnny took the woman's hand, kissing her palm.

"Si, he does not want us to come between him and his Nieto. He sees how Senor Scott loves his hermano, and he sees that he cares for me. That man does not want to share his Nieto with anyone else," Maria answered. "Do you wish your breakfast here or in the dining room?"

Johnny answered by sitting down at the table in the kitchen. Maria put a cup of coffee in front of him and turned back to the stove to start Johnny's breakfast. The sound of the kitchen door opening drew their attention.

Walt walked into the kitchen, taking his hat off as he did. He saw Johnny at the table and came to an abrupt stop. Juan, who was right behind him, bumped into Walt's back. Juan looked around Walt to see why he'd stopped.

"Morning, boys," Johnny said raising his cup to them. "You two draw the short straw today?"

"Aw, Johnny, we don't draw straws anymore," Walt grinned. "Cip draws names out of a hat now."

Johnny laughed out loud. It had been a long time since anyone had heard Johnny laughing and it brought a smile to all of their faces.

"You two had breakfast?" Johnny asked wiping his eyes with a napkin.

"We already ate, wouldn't mind coffee, though," Walt said as he sat down. Juan nodded to Maria as he sat down. Maria brought cups to both of them.

"So, what are we doing today, hefe?" Juan asked, picking up his cup.

Johnny looked at the two men that were going to be riding with him. Johnny knew all too well, the danger he was putting these men in.

"Not sure," Johnny answered as Maria put a plate in front of him. "We'll go out for orders."

Walt and Juan relaxed while Johnny ate. Once finished, Johnny pushed his plate away and smiled at the look on Maria's face. She liked it when he had an appetite.

Johnny stood. "You two ready?"

Walt and Juan followed Johnny through the now empty dining room and out the front door. They could see the men gathering at the corral for morning orders.

Johnny put his hat on and straightened his gun belt. Looking around the yard, he took a deep breath. It was the first time in days he'd set foot outside the house.

Murdoch was giving orders when he noticed the men looking past him. Murdoch turned to look over his shoulder. His youngest son walking toward him, Walt and Juan beside him.

Murdoch noticed there was only a slight limp in Johnny's step. The elder Lancer turned back to the men, finishing the orders.

Scott had been listening to Murdoch when he saw his father turn and look toward the house. The sight of his brother sent a wave of emotions through him. Scott unconsciously put his hand on the butt of his gun and looked around the yard. Where there was Johnny; there was always danger.

Johnny stopped behind his father and leaned against the corral. He could tell his presence was making the men nervous.

Murdoch finished the orders and turned to look at his sons.

"Do either of you have anything to add?" Murdoch asked. It was an unusual question. Neither Scott nor Johnny had ever heard their father ask them that question when giving morning orders.

Scott responded quickly, "No, Sir. I think you've covered everything."

Murdoch looked at Johnny.

Johnny straightened up and pushed his hat off his head, to hang by the stampede string onto his back. Slowly, he looked around at the men in front of him.

"Don't have anything to add to the orders," Johnny began. "I do want to say something. It's pretty clear now that whoever's been taking pot shots at us is after me. You've all stood with me," Johnny looked at the ground, took a deep breath, and then looked up again, "with Madrid, in the past. I don't expect you to stand with me now. Don't expect any of you," Johnny looked at Murdoch and Scott, "to take a bullet meant for me. None of you will be working with me until I figure out who's behind this and put a stop to it."

"John, …," Murdoch spoke up.

Johnny held up his hand, "No, Murdoch, this begins and ends with me. You and Scott didn't sign a partnership agreement to take a bullet for me. These men, sure as hell, didn't sign up for it. I'll be working alone from here on out."

Johnny turned to look at Walt and Juan and then at Cipriano.

"Tio," Johnny said in a soft drawl, "no more."

Cipriano knew what he meant. He didn't like what his nephew was saying, but he did respect it. There was, however, no way Johnny was going to be riding alone on the ranch or anywhere else.

Johnny pulled his hat on and lowered it over his eyes, "Now, as the Patron would say, we got us a ranch to run. I'll not be riding out until you've all cleared the yard."

The men stood still for a few moments, not knowing what to do. They looked to Murdoch for guidance. Murdoch nodded, "Very well. You have your assignments. Get to it."

The men made their way to the barn to get their horses, looking over their shoulders as they went. Some relieved by what Johnny had said, some not agreeing. The only ones not moving were Frank, Joe, and Jose. Johnny watched the others go and then turned to his father, brother, and uncle.

"You can't protect me forever," Johnny said. "I know you want to but it ain't gonna' happen." Johnny turned to see Walt and Juan still standing behind him. "You two need to go on."

No one moved.

Walt looked at Johnny and shook his head, "Nope. Don't care what you say. I don't know about Juan or the others, but I'm sticking to you like glue today. You wanna' fire me, go ahead. I'll ride with you on my own time."

Johnny dipped his head. He swallowed hard and fought the emotions that were building in his eyes.

"Sobrino," Cipriano took a step forward. "We respect what you have said, but we cannot let you do this alone. We are familia. Familia is not by your side when life is only easy. Familia stands with you even when you do not want us."

"Tio, you remember what Benton said that day right here in this yard? He said that I could never give up my gun. I've lived by the gun too long, and I'll die by the gun."

Johnny looked at his father and brother and the men he trusted above all others on the ranch. "Benton was right. I can't change my fate, but I'll be damn if I take any one of you with me. I don't want any of you hurt or killed because of who I am or what I am."

"Who you are? What you are?" Cipriano smiled and put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "You are my Sobrino, my nephew. Would you dishonor me by not letting me care about you?"

"You know what I mean, Tio." Johnny looked away.

"Si," Cipriano answered, "I know. We all know. You are the great Johnny Madrid. You do not need anyone. Si?" Cipriano smiled. "Pffft, Johnny Madrid is not just a legend to us, Sobrino. I… we love you."

Scott walked over to his brother and put an arm around his shoulders. "As Cipriano said, we're family. Family stands together, little brother."

Johnny looked at Scott. "I don't want to get my family killed, Scott. Standing by me, loving me could do just that."

Murdoch had heard enough. He took two steps forward and centered himself on his son. Reaching out, he lifted Johnny's chin, looking into his blue eyes.

"Son, I was wrong the other day to be angry at you. It isn't your fault; any of it. Yes, your reputation has brought the gunfighters to us, but it was Matt Wilson who started this. The person Wilson worked for is the one responsible, not you. You've done nothing more than defend yourself. I'm proud of you, John, so very proud." Murdoch wanted to pull his son to him but knew Johnny wouldn't want that, not out here in front of everyone.

Johnny looked at his father's eyes and smiled.

The sound of horses coming out of the barn drew Johnny's attention. Murdoch, Scott, Cipriano, and the 'chosen' watched as the hands walked out and waited.

Jacobs handed the reins of his horse to Slim and walked over to Johnny. "Johnny, the fellows and me have been talking. That was a right nice speech you made a little while ago, but it was a bunch of bull … manure. We went through this a few months ago when you rode into Green River."

Jacobs looked over his shoulder at the other men. Slim nodded, "Go on ahead; tell him."

"Well, the men wanted me to tell you that we're with you in this, just like we were before. We know someone is trying to run you off or kill you. We ain't gonna' let that happen," Jacobs continued. "Remember what I told you about moral support. Well, this time you got both our moral support, and we're backing it with our guns.

No one messes with the brand and gets away with it. We ride for the brand, and we fight for it. As far as we're concerned the brand is Lancer, and you're a Lancer. Yeah, we know you're Madrid, too, but the way we see it, you're more Lancer than Madrid these days."

Johnny shook his head and chuckled.

"Hell, I practiced that speech for two days. Guess I could have saved my breath." He looked around and nodded. "Alright, but when the shooting starts you do what I tell you. Understood?"

Heads nodded all around.

"Good, that's settled. Now, as someone said earlier, we have a ranch to run," Murdoch said as he turned toward the house. "Cipriano, get the men started."

Glancing over his shoulder, Murdoch saw Scott slap his brother on the back. Everything was going to be alright. The family was united. The men were standing with Johnny and Lancer.

As Murdoch approached the French doors, he saw Harlan standing just inside. There was a frown on the older man's face.

When Harlan saw Murdoch looking at him, the frown slid away.

"Is everything alright?" Harlan asked as Murdoch entered the Great Room.

Murdoch stopped and looked back out the doors. Scott and Johnny were mounting up.

"Everything is fine, Harlan. John is feeling better and is going to work with Scott," Murdoch answered.

"That's good," Harlan replied half-heartedly. "Murdoch, I have some business in town. Do you mind if I take a buggy?"

"I can have one of the hands drive you," Murdoch offered.

"No, that won't be necessary. I know the way, and it is a beautiful day. I know I will enjoy the drive," Harlan replied.

"Very well, I'll have the buggy hitched up and brought out front." Murdoch turned and went back outside.

Harlan wasn't smiling. He needed to talk to Belcher. Things weren't working to his satisfaction at all.

..********

It was mid-morning, and Val was making his rounds. Things in town had been quiet, and he liked it that way. There hadn't been any problems at Lancer since Johnny had been laid up.

Val had gone over his conversation with Johnny several times. He had to admit Johnny was probably right. Harlan Garrett was most likely behind the problems caused by Wilson and now this man Belcher.

Seeing Leon Fergus running toward him, Val had to smile. The kid was at that age where he was all arms and legs.

"Sheriff." Leon tried to catch his breath. "Carl at the hotel said he needed to see you."

Val nodded, "Alright, you go tell Carl I'll be right there."

As Leon took off running back to the hotel, Val looked toward the saloon. Jack Belcher disappeared behind the doors. Smiling, Val made his way to the hotel.

"Room 3, Val," Carl said as he handed over a key.

Val nodded and took the key. Making his way up the stairs, he looked both ways before he put the key in the lock and started to open the door. He hesitated and took a good look around the edges of the door. Smiling, Val spotted a small piece of string sticking out at the top of the door.

Johnny had used the same trick for years. The string had been his insurance policy to let him know when someone had been in his room.

Reaching up, Val took hold of the string and opened the door.

Inside the room, Val took a few moments to look around. It was a two-room suite. The outer room was a sitting room with a settee, a small round table, and two chairs. The other room held the bed, a nightstand, and a dresser.

Belcher was neat. A neat man was usually organized. In Val's experience, organized men were predictable. Val went straight to the round table near the window. Three neat stacks of papers sat to one side of the table. In the middle was a notebook.

Val decided to look at the notebook first. He opened it and turned to the first page. Belcher had written it all down. As Val thumbed through the pages, he read every order that had been given to Belcher by his employer. The problem was, Belcher never spelled out who his employer was. Val tensed when he saw one name repeated over and over… Madrid.

Val snapped the notebook closed. He'd read enough to know that Johnny was the man's primary focus. Resetting the notebook precisely as he'd found it, Val looked out the window to see if Belcher was coming back. Satisfied he still had time, Val started going through the papers on the table.

Taking a deep breath to control his temper, Val made sure the stacks of paper were like he had found them. He then went into the bedroom and searched the drawers of the dresser, the nightstand, and finally, under the mattress.

When his hand hit something under the mattress, Val took hold and pulled it out. A small flat case slid out. Val put it on the bed and opened it. It was full of money. He'd been expecting to find money just like he did when he'd searched Matt Wilson's room. Val closed the case, putting it back where he found it.

Satisfied he had gotten all the information he could, Val looked around to make sure he'd left no sign of being there. Opening the door and stepping out of the room, Val reached up and put the string back where he'd found it over the door. Then he locked the door and went back downstairs.

Passing the front desk, Val tossed the key to Carl.

"Thanks, Carl. You see Belcher with anyone you let me know."

"Sure thing, Val," Carl nodded as he put the key back where it belonged.

Val started back to his office. He needed to think. He also needed to go out to Lancer and talk to Johnny.

Val hadn't gone 20 feet when he saw Harlan Garrett drive into town. He quickly stepped around the corner of the hotel and waited to see what the older man was going to do. Val saw Garrett go into the hotel and then come out again. Val stayed where he was as Garrett made his way to the saloon. A few minutes later, Garrett and Belcher walked out of the saloon and went back to the hotel.

Garrett had just confirmed what he and Johnny already suspected. Harlan Garrett was bankrolling Belcher.

..********

Two extremely happy young men rode back to the house that afternoon. Behind them rode five equally happy ranch hands. It had been a quiet day, and Johnny was smiling. No one had heard even a hint of gunfire the entire day.

The boys took care of their horses before heading into the house.

"Good day?" Murdoch asked. He'd watched them riding in. The smiles on his boy's faces told him all he wanted to know.

"Yes, Sir," Scott answered. "A perfect day. Serene in fact."

"Yeah, what he said," Johnny laughed.

"You two better get cleaned up. You have a couple of hours yet." Murdoch looked at the clock. "Harlan went into town earlier, and he hasn't come back yet. We'll wait dinner for him."

"Grandfather went into town… by himself?" Scott asked, the smile no longer on his face. "Surely, you sent some men with him."

"No, Scott, Harlan wanted to go by himself," Murdoch answered trying not to become irritated. "He's a grown man. I couldn't force him to take someone with him."

Scott bit his tongue.

"If grandfather isn't back in 30 minutes, I'm riding into town to find him." Scott turned on his heels and stomped up the stairs.

"You don't think something happened to him, do you?" Johnny looked worried. "Murdoch, something happens to old man Garrett and Scott's gonna' blame me."

"Nonsense," Murdoch responded.

Johnny didn't say anything. He knew it wasn't nonsense. If something should happen to Harlan Garrett because of him, Scott would never forgive him.

Johnny turned to go up the stairs when he heard the sound of a horse and buggy in front of the house. He hurried to the French doors. Relief flooded him when he saw Garrett was alright.

Scott must have heard the buggy as well because he was down the stairs and beside Johnny in a flash. Scott smiled as he opened the door.

"Grandfather," Scott said as he went to help Harlan from the buggy. The relief at seeing his grandfather was evident. "Did you have a good day in town?"

"Yes, Scotty, I did," Harlan responded. "I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I had some telegrams to send and then had a leisurely lunch at that café you and I went to. It was a beautiful day for a drive."

"Well, dinner will be ready in about an hour," Scott said as he walked Harlan into the house. "You have time to freshen up and rest."

"Wonderful," Harlan said as he looked around the Great Room. "Murdoch. Johnny. How are you?" Then looking at Johnny, he asked, "I assume you had a quiet day, John?"

"Yes, real quiet," Johnny drawled. He didn't know why, but he didn't like it when Harlan Garrett was nice to him.

"Well, I'll go freshen up," Harlan said with a smile and turned to the stairs.

Murdoch frowned. Harlan was smiling way too much.

Harlan went to his room and closed the door. He was satisfied with his meeting with Belcher that morning.

Lying on the bed, Harlan couldn't wait to see what would happen tomorrow.

..********

Scott and Johnny were coming from the barn when they saw a familiar rider approaching the arch.

Murdoch walked out of the house with a frown on his face, moving to stand with his sons.

"You know I like that kid," Johnny drawled, "but I am getting tired of seeing him ride out here."

"I know exactly what you mean," Murdoch replied, looking sideways at his son.

"Look at the boy's face," Scott spoke up. "I don't think he's happy to be here either."

Scott was right. Leon Fergus wasn't smiling. The boy pulled up in front of Johnny and jumped down from the saddle. Leon had started to hate coming to Lancer. He knew that every time the Sheriff sent a message to Johnny, it meant someone was in town waiting for his friend.

"Leon?" Johnny greeted the boy.

Leon took a deep breath and let it out. "Sheriff sent me out with a message," Leon pulled the note from inside his shirt and held it out to Johnny. "I'm real sorry, Johnny."

Johnny took the note from the boy's hand and reached in his pocket for a coin.

"No, Johnny, don't give me anything. You gave me too much last time," Leon said. "I wish the Sheriff wouldn't ask me to bring them messages to you."

Johnny looked at the boy's downturned face.

"Well, Leon, Val trusts you. He knows you'll get the message to me and only me. It takes a lot for Val to trust like that. He must think a lot of you."

Leon looked up, smiling. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Johnny answered. "Val wouldn't let anyone else bring this to me. Thank you, Leon."

Murdoch smiled at the way Johnny handled the boy. "Leon, do you want anything to eat or drink?" Murdoch asked.

"I am right thirsty," Leon answered.

"Go on into the kitchen; Maria will take care of you. I think she might even have some cookies," Murdoch said.

"Thank you, Mister Lancer," the boy smiled and walked his horse to the hitching rail near the front door.

Murdoch and Scott looked at Johnny, the note still unopened in his hand.

Looking up, Johnny handed the note to Scott before turning on his heels and headed for the house.

"Aren't you even going to see what it says?" Scott asked watching his brother's back retreating.

"Don't need to," Johnny called back over his shoulder.

Scott opened the note. He handed it to Murdoch and started into the house after his brother.

Murdoch looked down at the note and shook his head.

"Is it ever going to end?" he asked himself aloud. Looking around, Murdoch saw Cipriano standing near the corral watching him.

Cipriano knew what Leon's presence meant. Watching Murdoch, he waited for some sign as to what to do. Murdoch nodded to him. Cipriano turned and yelled out three names. Frank, Walt, and Joe's heads shot up at the same time.

..********

Johnny was in his bedroom when Scott found him. He sat on his brother's bed and watched him change into a clean shirt. When Johnny opened the top drawer of his dresser, pulling out his working gun, Scott finally spoke.

"You didn't look at the note," Scott said watching Johnny put his gun belt on.

"Didn't need to. It doesn't matter what's written on it. All that matters is I have to go into town and face whoever it is."

A sound drew his attention. Harlan was standing in the doorway.

Johnny headed for the door, pushing past Harlan. The sound of his spurs fading away as he moved down the hall to the stairs.

To Scott, it was remarkable what went through a person's mind in only a matter of seconds. From the time he stepped off the stage in Morro Coyo and discovered he had a brother to when he'd killed Day Pardee protecting that brother, Scott knew his life had changed.

It was at the precise moment in time, leaning against the oak tree in front of the hacienda, that he realized that the boy that was beside him was the part of his soul he'd been missing his entire life.

The instant he'd said the words, "_We'd just about given up on you, boy_" he knew that his brother was his responsibility and always would be. There had never been anyone in his life before or since that meant more to him than that dark-haired boy.

Scott started after Johnny. Harlan grabbed his arm.

"Let him go, Scotty," the older man said, pulling his grandson back.

Scott turned on the man, jerking his arm free.

"No, Grandfather. I won't let him go. He's my brother, and I love him. You don't seem to be able to understand that."

"I understand that you could be in danger because of that boy," Harlan replied. "Can't you see that you don't belong here in this savage land. You belong in Boston, where it's safe."

"Boston?" Scott closed his eyes and shook his head. "Grandfather, Boston isn't my home. Lancer's my home now. My heart is here. My… my soul is here."

"It's that 'brother' of yours that's keeping you here," Harlan hissed.

"No, Grandfather. It's me keeping me here. I was never truly happy in Boston. There was always something missing. I found it here with my father and brother. I love this land. It gets in your blood."

"Scotty, I don't want to see you hurt. Going after your brother is going to get you hurt. Can't you see that?"

"What I see is my brother needs me. If something should happen to him and I wasn't there, I would never forgive myself."

..********

Johnny stepped out of the house to find Barranca waiting for him. Remmie was also saddled. Seated on their horses waiting for him were Walt, Frank, Joe, and Murdoch. Cipriano and a few other Lancer hands stood silently to one side.

Scott followed his brother out the front door and quickly mounted Remmie.

Everyone was looking at Johnny. He shook his head as he took Barranca's reins and swung up into the saddle before turning toward the arch and the road to town.

Johnny, Murdoch, and Scott rode three abreast with Walt, Frank, and Joe behind them. No one spoke for a long time.

Murdoch looked to Johnny. "Do you want to know?"

"Like I told Scott, it doesn't matter," Johnny replied in a slow drawl.

Murdoch controlled his rising anger. "Damn it, John. It matters to the rest of us. You have no idea what you're walking into."

Johnny pulled back hard on the reins and looked at his father. "Alright, what did it say?"

Murdoch closed his eyes and looked down.

"Pistolero," Murdoch responded.

"Alright, now I know. Satisfied? Still, don't make a difference. One man or seven," Johnny growled, "I'll face them." Johnny looked at Scott and then at the men with them, "All of you just stay out of it."

"John…," Murdoch started.

"Not now, old man," Johnny hissed. "I can't do this right now." He kicked Barranca's sides and took off ahead of the others.

At the edge of town, Johnny stopped again. "You go on into town. I'll be along shortly."

Murdoch nodded and waved for Scott and the men to follow him. He looked over his shoulder to see Johnny standing next to his horse, drawing his gun and resetting it in the holster.

Murdoch motioned everyone to the Sheriff's office where Val was waiting out front.

"He said he'd be along soon," Murdoch said as he dismounted. "Are you sure this man is alone?"

Val nodded, "As sure as I can be. He came into town alone earlier this afternoon and asked about Johnny straight away. I sent Leon on out. Didn't know if Johnny would want to do this today or tomorrow."

Murdoch didn't say anything. He pushed his hat back off his forehead and crossed his arms across his chest. Val smiled. It was something he'd seen Johnny do a hundred times.

Val had started to the saloon to let the gunhawk know that Johnny was coming when the gunfighter stepped out onto the boardwalk.

"I suppose the men in the saloon saw you ride in," Val said, looking at Murdoch.

It was late in the day with an hour or so of sunlight left. Johnny knew that at least one of them was going to have his back to the sun. The other would have the full glare of the setting sun straight in his eyes. Pulling his hat brim down to cover his eyes, he began his ride.

Seeing the gunhawk step out of the saloon, Johnny pulled Barranca's head around moving to the side of the street. Stepping down from the saddle, Johnny's foot had just touched the ground when he heard his name.

"Madrid!"

Johnny watched the man step into the street. Johnny silently cursed when he saw that the sun was to the gunfighters back.

"I'm Madrid," Johnny answered, pulling a calfskin glove from his belt. He slid it onto his left hand as he moved to the center of the street. "You gotta' name, mister?"

"Frasier, Jim Frasier," the gunfighter answered.

Johnny nodded.

"You got anything to say, Madrid?" Frasier had always heard that Madrid tried to talk the other fellow out of the fight.

"Nope," Johnny answered adjusting his hat lower over his eyes. He wouldn't be able to see Frasier's eyes. The seasoned gunfighter was going to have to rely on instincts alone. He could see Frasier's gun hand and his fingers moving restlessly against his holster.

On the boardwalk, the men who cared for Johnny the most held their breaths, listening. The usual banter was missing.

"Val?" Murdoch looked at his son's best friend.

Val barely whispered the words, "The sun's in his eyes."

For the first time, they all realized Johnny's hat was further down over his eyes than usual. Johnny wasn't going to be able to see Frasier's face.

"Any time you're ready, Madrid," Frasier hissed. He couldn't see Madrid's eyes.

"You're calling the tune, Frasier," Johnny answered seeing Frasier's fingers curl slightly.

Frasier's mouth had gone dry. He wet his lips and relaxed his shoulders. He saw a smile form on Madrid's face as they both drew.

..********

Scott sat in the Great Room with a whiskey in his hand, staring into the fire. Across from him Murdoch sat, also with a whiskey. Teresa was in her chair to the side of the fireplace with a basket of mending in her lap. No one spoke.

Harlan leaned back on the sofa and watched Murdoch and Scott. Very little had been said since they'd returned home well after dark. Harlan hadn't dared ask about what happened in town. He wanted to ask about Johnny, who hadn't been with them when they returned.

Harlan stood and went to the drink cart, pouring himself another drink. He looked around to see that no one had even noticed he'd stood up.

Harlan cleared his throat, "Scotty, another drink? Murdoch?"

Scott looked up, shaking himself. Looking at the glass in his hand, he realized he hadn't taken even a sip of the fiery liquid.

"No, Sir."

"Murdoch?" Harlan repeated himself.

"No, thank you," Murdoch answered taking a sip of his drink.

Teresa glanced toward the front door. Sighing, she went back to her mending.

Scott stood up and sat his glass down. "I'm going to check on the horses," he said turning toward the door.

Murdoch nodded his understanding.

Teresa put the basket of mending down next to her chair and stood up. "Murdoch, do you mind if I go to bed?"

"Of course not, sweetheart," Murdoch answered, standing also.

Murdoch leaned so that Teresa could kiss him on the cheek. He looked in her eyes and saw tears. Taking the girl in his arms, he hugged her. "Everything's going to be alright."

"Good night, Mister Garrett." Teresa wiped her eyes as she started toward her room.

"Good night, my dear," Harlan responded.

Once Teresa was out of the room, Harlan turned to Murdoch.

"Is anyone going to tell me what happened in town this afternoon?"

Murdoch walked to the drink cart and refilled his glass before answering, "There was a gunfight. Johnny outdrew the other man."

"Is that all?" Harlan said. "Was John hurt?"

Murdoch looked at his former father-in-law and huffed, "Isn't that enough, and no, Johnny wasn't hurt."

"The way you and Scotty have been acting I thought that the … that Johnny was injured," Harlan caught himself before calling Johnny a half-breed.

"No, he wasn't injured, at least physically, this time," Murdoch replied collapsing back into his chair.

"Then…?" Harlan asked.

Before Murdoch could answer the front door opened, and Scott walked in with Val and Johnny close behind. Both Val and Johnny were staggering, holding onto each other. They were drunk.

"Hey, Pa," Johnny slurred with a wide grin on his face.

"Yeah, hey, Murdoch." Val was also grinning.

"Are you two alright?" Murdoch sat his glass down and moved across the room. Scott closed the door and was now beside his brother.

"We're good," Johnny hiccupped. "Aren't we good, Val?"

Val leaned into Johnny, "Yep, I'm fine." Val looked at Johnny, and they both started to laugh.

"I'm sure you're both fine," Murdoch laughed, shaking his head.

"Hey, Murdoch, I think I need to go to bed," Johnny frowned as if he were trying to remember the way. "Val's gonna' stay the night. Aren't you, Val?"

Val simply nodded his head and then frowned, thinking better of the movement.

"Are Walt, Frank, and Joe with you?" Murdoch asked as Scott started to guide the two staggering men toward the stairs.

"They went to the bunkhouse," Scott answered for his brother. "They didn't seem to have had as much to drink as these two."

"Alright, can you get them upstairs, Scott, or do you need help?" Murdoch asked.

"I can manage," Scott answered, looking at his grandfather. "I'm going to get them to bed and then call it a night myself, Grandfather."

"Yes, of course," Harlan replied watching his grandson help the Sheriff and Madrid up the stairs.

"I believe I will also turn in, Murdoch. Good night."

"Good night, Harlan," Murdoch said watching the older man going up the stairs.

Murdoch once again collapsed into his chair. Running a hand over his face, he let out a breath he thought he must have been holding since that afternoon. His son was home. Both of his sons were upstairs safe. With them, the friend that meant so much to his youngest son and his family.

Murdoch relaxed for the first time since Leon Fergus had ridden into the ranch earlier today. He replayed the gunfight in his mind.

Johnny and Frasier had stood fixed in the street, the sun directly in Johnny's eyes. He'd pulled his hat so far down that there had been no way for him to see Frasier's face.

Murdoch still didn't know how Johnny had done it, but the second Frasier made his move, so had Johnny.

Two shots had rung out.

Johnny took a step to the right, crouched and fired at the same time. His bullet hit Frasier in the chest. Frasier's shot missed its mark by only inches. If Johnny hadn't sidestepped, it would have been a different story.

Murdoch and Scott waited while Johnny stood in the street looking at Frasier's body. It wasn't until he holstered his gun that they moved forward. It was then he told them he was staying in town with Val and for them to go home.

Murdoch had reluctantly left his son in town while he and Scott rode back to the ranch. He did, however, tell Walt, Frank, and Joe to stay with Johnny.

The crackle of the fire brought Murdoch back to the present. After banking the fire and locking the doors, he made his way upstairs to his room. He could still hear Scott trying to get Johnny into bed.

"Where's Val?" Murdoch heard Johnny mumble. "Gotta' make sure Papi's alright."

He looked into Johnny's room to see him sitting on the side of the bed. Scott was pulling his boots off.

"He's in the room next door, already asleep, like you should be," Scott answered as the last boot came off.

"You're sure?" Johnny asked, his voice starting to trail off. "You make sure he's tucked in, won't you, Boston?"

Murdoch stifled a laugh as he watched Scott's attempts to get his brother undressed. As Scott started to take Johnny's shirt off of him, the younger man flopped back onto the bed. Scott pulled him into a sitting position and slid Johnny's arms out of his shirt sleeves. Johnny slumped back again as Scott started to work on removing his pants.

"Yes, little brother, I'll make sure he's tucked in," Scott laughed, trying and failing to get the pants off. Deciding to give up a losing battle, Scott finally pushed Johnny back onto the bed.

"Now lay down and go to sleep."

"You gonna' tuck me in, too?" Johnny slurred with a crooked smile.

An exasperated Scott answered, "If that will make you lay down and go to sleep, I will."

Murdoch watched Johnny nod once, before scooting into the bed and laying his head on the pillow. Scott pulled the sheet and quilt up over his brother's shoulders. Murdoch heard Johnny sigh as Scott tucked the covers in around him.

Murdoch backed out of the room when Scott brushed the hair from his brother's forehead saying, "Sleep tight, little brother."

..********

Johnny woke with a headache he wouldn't soon forget. After the gunfight with Frasier, he'd gone to the saloon, bought a bottle, and settled into his usual chair in the back corner. Twenty minutes later Val walked in and sat down. That was pretty much the last thing he remembered until a sliver of the morning sun peeked through the curtains in his room.

As Johnny lay in bed wishing he were dead, he heard the sound of loud snoring coming from the somewhere close by. Johnny grinned. He'd know that snore anywhere. He wondered why Val was at Lancer.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, Johnny closed his eyes against the dizziness that swept over him. He realized he still had his pants on, but his shirt and boots were gone. A moment of panic hit him until he saw his gun belt hanging on the bedpost. Reaching up, he started to pull his gun from the holster and stopped himself. He was safe here in the house.

Johnny made his way to the door and stepped into the hallway. He followed the sound of snoring to the room next to his. Pushing the door open, he found Val sprawled out on the bed.

Johnny moved over to the side of the bed and sat down. He shook Val's shoulder. Val turned over and threw an arm around Johnny pulling him down.

"Go to sleep, hijo," Val mumbled.

Johnny smiled and laid down next to Val. Closing his eyes, he fell back to sleep.

..********

Murdoch finished giving morning orders and walked back into the house. Seeing no one in the Great Room, he went to the kitchen. Teresa and Maria were fixing breakfast for Scott.

"Is your brother awake yet?" Murdoch asked as he filled a cup with coffee.

Scott laughed, "I hardly think either he or Val will be awake anytime soon. How are Frank, Walt, and Joe fairing?"

"Oh, they're awake and moving. Walt said your brother and Val would have polished off an entire bottle of Tequila last night if they hadn't stopped them."

"I can believe that," Scott looked at the breakfast Teresa slid in front of him. "They were both pretty well gone last night."

Murdoch and Scott looked up as Harlan made his way into the kitchen.

"I suppose if I want breakfast I had best come in here," the older man grumbled. "What is that dreadful noise upstairs?"

Murdoch chuckled. "That would be Val sleeping off the tequila he and Johnny drank last night."

"If that is the way tequila affects one, I certainly don't want to try any." Harlan sat down and looked expectantly at Maria.

Maria gave Harlan a stern look and proceeded to put a cup of coffee in front of him.

"What does the Senor want for breakfast?"

Harlan looked at Scott's plate. "What Scotty is having will be fine," Harlan answered and then as an afterthought, "thank you."

Harlan sipped his coffee and watched Scott eat. He'd never seen Scott eat as much as he had since being at Lancer. His plate was full, and Maria was adding another egg to it.

"Gracias, Maria," Scott said with a smile and continued eating.

"I presume you got John and Val to bed last night. As I passed John's door, I noticed it was open and he was gone. Is he already up and about?" Harlan said as Maria sat his plate down.

"Johnny wasn't in his room!?" Murdoch asked setting his cup down. Not waiting for Harlan to respond he and Scott headed for the back stairs. It was an all too familiar scene with the both of them rushing down the hallway toward Johnny's door.

Finding Johnny's door open and the room empty sent a shiver through Scott. The sound of Val's snoring seemed a little less loud than it had earlier. Scott moved to Val's door, gently pushing it open. Grinning, he motioned for Murdoch to join him.

The two men smiled when they saw Johnny face down on the bed, one arm hanging off. Val was on his side with an arm over Johnny's back, pinning him down.

Murdoch quietly moved into the room, taking a quilt from the chest at the foot of the bed, he spread it over his son.

"At least we know where he is," Murdoch whispered.

"Yes, and it looks like Val intends to keep him there," Scott replied as they moved out of the room.

..********

It was close to noon when Val woke up with pretty much the same headache Johnny had experienced earlier in the morning. Val dragged himself out of bed and tried to decide if he could make it to the water closet or needed to use the chamber pot. It didn't take him long to figure out he wouldn't make it out of the room.

After taking care of his needs and splashing water on his face, Val pulled on his boots and made his way down the back stairs to the kitchen. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and grinned. Johnny was sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Maria looked at him and smiled, waving him into a chair.

Val moved into the kitchen and sat down.

"Senora, you got any coffee?" Val's voice was loud.

Johnny's head shot up. "Dios, Val, keep it down. My head's coming off."

Maria sat coffee in front of Val and then patted Johnny on the back. "

Nino, bebia demasiado anoche," Maria smiled. _(Child, you drank too much last night) _

"Si, Mamacita," Johnny answered rubbing his temples. He looked at Val through blurry eyes, "Val, why'd you let me do that?"

Val huffed, "Let you?"

"Not so loud," Johnny groaned.

Val laughed, which made Johnny groan even louder.

The sound of the kitchen door slamming caused both Val and Johnny to jump.

"I see you two are finally up," Murdoch laughed. "Val, I would have thought you knew better."

"Yeah, so did I." Val took another drink of his coffee. "It's been a while since the two of us tied one on like that."

Murdoch walked up behind Johnny and put his hands on his son's shoulders, rubbing them. Johnny's head came up, and then he leaned back into his father's hands. When Murdoch pulled away, Johnny felt disappointed at the loss of contact with his father.

Murdoch sat down and looked at his son's red-rimmed blue eyes. He felt for the boy.

Johnny saw Murdoch staring at him. He wondered what his father was thinking. He hadn't spoken to him or Scott since the day before when he had told them all to go home and leave him in town.

Murdoch cleared his throat, "When you're feeling better, your brother could use some help on the South Mesa. He's rounding up strays."

Johnny nodded but didn't say anything. His head was slowly clearing.

Val leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, willing his head to stop pounding.

"I'd best get back to town." Val opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "The ride might help this headache."

"Yeah, I think a ride would help mine, too," Johnny said pushing back from the table.

Frowning, Maria looked at the two men. "You should eat, Senor Val, and you, nino."

Both Val and Johnny turned a shade of green.

"No!" Val said standing up on shaky legs. "No, ma'am. I couldn't eat a thing."

"Me, neither," Johnny said already standing and heading for the Great Room for his hat.

Murdoch laughed as the two men almost ran from the kitchen.

Once outside, Johnny came to a halt, waiting for Val. The fresh air was a welcome relief to both of them.

Val looked at Johnny and then over his shoulder, making sure Murdoch wasn't following them.

"You riding out to help Scott?" Val asked putting his hat on.

"I guess I'd better," Johnny answered. "The old man didn't seem to be mad at me for getting drunk last night, but I don't want to push my luck."

"You take care of yourself."

"I plan to," Johnny replied. "You keep an eye on that Belcher fellow. If he's hired the men who've been shooting at the ranch hands, he might decide to join the fun."

"I been thinking the same thing," Val agreed.

Johnny and Val saddled their horses. As Val headed toward Green River, Johnny turned toward the South Mesa.

..********

The three men Belcher hired were getting bored. They'd been spending their time in Morro Coyo waiting for Belcher to give them their orders.

Brad Dunbar, Terry Cameron, and Al Bleeker were little more than saddle tramps. They'd jumped at the money Belcher offered and laughed all the way to the saloon.

When they had found out the man they were harassing was Johnny Madrid they had the good sense to rethink the job. Belcher had offered even more money. Of course, they took it.

They were in Green River the day Madrid faced Jake Harris and was wounded by Jessie Taylor. The three of them had been a little disappointed that it wasn't one of their bullets that had brought Madrid down.

They cheered right up when they learned Madrid wasn't hurt as bad as it looked. They made their way to the Morro Coyo to celebrate Madrid's good fortune.

The three men had watched the Lancer hacienda off and on for days after that. It was just luck when they spotted Madrid near the glass doors four days earlier. They didn't have orders to fire on the house but couldn't pass on the opportunity. They'd quickly ridden away before anyone spotted them.

Going back to the cantina in Morro Coyo, they spent the next few days drinking and waiting. They didn't mind occupying their days in the cantina since their time wasn't wasted. They'd learned a lot in the days they sat idle.

Johnny Madrid was the son of one of the wealthiest ranchers in the San Joaquin Valley. The blond-headed man they were told not to harm was Madrid's brother, also a son of Murdoch Lancer.

Dunbar, the so-called brains of the group, wondered just how much one or both of those men would be worth to old man Lancer. When he voiced his plan to his friends, they didn't have sense enough to see how bad the idea was.

"What happens if we can't take Madrid alive?" Bleeker asked in a low voice, leaning across the table toward Dunbar and Cameron.

Dunbar scratched the stubble on his chin and thought for a moment. "If we can't take him alive, we kill him; then we take the blond fellow."

Cameron thought for a few moments, "You know if we take the blond first, I bet Madrid would give himself up. You've heard what those fellows said last night. Madrid cares a whole lot about that brother of his."

Cameron looked around the table and watched Dunbar and Bleeker nodding their heads.

"What about Belcher?" Cameron spoke up.

"What about him?" Dunbar laughed. "We've already taken his money, and now we can get more from Lancer. We can't lose."

"So how do we go about getting the blond? You know Belcher's been real clear he doesn't want him hurt," Cameron added.

"Maybe we double cross Belcher," Dunbar smiled as if having a rational thought. "You know he's working for someone with a lot of money. I'd wager Belcher would pay us to get that one back. I bet he'd give old man Lancer the money to get Madrid and the blond back. Hell, boys, we could be living it high on the hog in San Francisco before this is over."

"What's that blond-haired Lancer called anyway?" Bleeker asked.

"Scott," Dunbar said, "Scott Lancer."

Dunbar lifted a glass and toasted his friends, a smile on his face. They were gonna' be real rich by the time this was over.

..********

Jake Belcher wasn't happy. Harlan Garrett was becoming impatient. He wanted to increase the attacks on Lancer, hoping to discredit Madrid and drive him away. Garrett was convinced Scott would leave the ranch and go back to Boston if Madrid wasn't there.

Belcher was no fool. He'd done his research on Lancer and the two sons that had come home to defend the ranch. Belcher knew that Johnny and Scott Lancer were close. Probably closer than brothers that had grown up together. In his opinion, Garrett was never going to get Scott Lancer to leave California.

However, arguing that point with Garrett was going nowhere except to get him fired and replaced by someone else. Garrett paid good money, and Belcher wasn't one to turn it down.

Belcher hadn't ordered the shooting that took place on the Lancer Great Room, but Garrett had assumed he had and was thrilled with the results. Who was Belcher to tell the man that it wasn't his idea? He had no intention of telling Garrett the three men he'd hired had acted without orders.

Once Garrett returned to Lancer, Belcher set out to find his 'employees.' It didn't take him long to find them in the cantina in Morro Coyo. He'd regretted hiring Dunbar, Cameron, and Bleeker more than once in the last few weeks. There was nothing about these men he liked or trusted.

After giving the men their instructions, Belcher returned to his hotel in Green River with an uneasy feeling.

..********

Leon Fergus rode under the Lancer arch and went straight to the house. Beating on the front door, the boy was nervous. He looked around the yard and saw no one. It wasn't long before the door opened and Scott appeared.

"Leon, are you here to see Johnny?" Scott asked hesitantly seeing panic on the boy's face.

"No, Scott, I'm here to see you," Leon reached in his pocket and brought out a note, handing it to Scott. "Scott, some fellow stopped me in town and told me to bring this to you. He said I was to give it to you and only you. Scott that fellow was scary. I'm sorry, Scott, I looked at the note."

Scott opened the note and read it:

_Got brother. Come alone or be sorry. Fork in road Morro Coyo and Spanish Wells. Noon today_.

Scott crumpled the note in his hand. They, whoever they were, had Johnny.

"Leon, what did the man look like?" Scott asked.

Leon thought for a moment, "Tall, almost as tall as you. Brown hair and needed a shave. He smelled like he could stand a bath too."

"Alright, go back to town and tell Val what the note said. I'm going out to meet them," Scott said as he turned and went back into the house.

Standing in the entryway, Scott closed his eyes. What should he do? He needed to talk to Murdoch.

Harlan was coming down the stairs. "Scotty, is there a problem?"

The sound of the front door opening caused Scott to spin around.

Murdoch stood in the doorway. "Scott, was that Leon? Did he have another message from Val?"

Scott looked between his father and his grandfather trying to push down the panic that was rising in him. He held the note out to Murdoch.

"Someone has kidnapped Johnny," Scott swallowed hard. "How? How did they get him away from the men?" Scott closed his eyes and shook his head. "I have to go." He turned to the door.

Murdoch grabbed his arm. "No, Scott, not alone. Give me time to get some men together."

"The note said alone. Follow me if you want, but I'm going." Scott buckled his gun belt.

"Scotty!" Harlan was in turmoil. He hadn't ordered anyone to kidnap the half-breed. Maybe, it was someone else from Madrid's past. "You can't go out there. You could be hurt. Listen to Murdoch."

Harlan couldn't believe he was saying those words, _"Listen to Murdoch." _

"There isn't time." Scott was out the door before anyone else could say anything.

..********

Terry Cameron crouched behind a rise overlooking Lancer's South Mesa. Best he could figure, he'd been there the better part of half an hour watching Madrid and a few of Lancer's cowhands. The men were rounding up cattle, something Cameron had done in the past and swore he'd never do again.

Grunting, Cameron pushed himself up and crawled back a few feet before standing and making his way back to his horse. Dunbar told him to wait until noon before approaching Madrid. Looking up at the sun, Cameron figured it was close to that now.

Gathering his nerves, Cameron swallowed hard, mounted up and started his ride toward the gunfighter. He still wasn't sure about Dunbar's plan. Dunbar had all kinds of plans. Most of which never worked out.

Getting closer to Madrid, Cameron could see the gunfighter's muscles tense and his hand go to the Colt on his hip.

Cameron slowed. No, the more he thought of it, he wasn't sure of Dunbar's plan at all.

Stopping in front of Madrid, Cameron didn't say a word as he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a dirty, crumpled piece of paper. Holding it out, his hand shook as Madrid frowned and then took it from him.

Cameron didn't wait for Madrid to read it. Turning his horse, he spurred it back the way he'd come. Nope, he didn't like this plan, not at all.

..********

Johnny opened the note and read it:

_Got brother. Come alone or be sorry. Needle Rock. 1:00 today._

Johnny cursed and looked at the retreating rider. Someone had his brother. They were after him and going to use Scott to get to him. He knew this day would come. He'd told Murdoch the day would come when he'd bring pain to the family.

Johnny looked around and then pulled out his watch. It was already noon. There wasn't much time.

Walt had seen the rider coming and started toward Johnny. He pulled up when the rider rode away leaving Johnny sitting alone and unharmed, but Walt could tell something was wrong.

"Johnny!" Walt called out and kicked his gelding's sides. He was next to Johnny in only a few seconds. "What's wrong?"

Johnny passed the note to Walt.

"I'm going. You get some of the men and follow. Send someone into town for Val," Johnny said as he pulled Barranca's neck around and started toward the meeting place.

"Johnny, you can't go alone!" Walt yelled to Johnny's retreating back. "Let me get some of the men!" Walt knew it was no use. There was nothing that would keep Johnny from his brother.

Walt pulled out his rifle and fired three shots into the air. He saw Johnny looking over his shoulder as he topped the hill, but kept riding.

Walt was torn as to what to do. Go after Johnny or get the men organized. The rest of the hands working in the South Mesa were there in a matter of minutes. Walt explained what was happening before sending Joe to Mr. Lancer and Jose for Val. Walt motioned the rest of the men to follow him.

..*********

Scott rode like the devil himself was chasing him. All he could think about was Johnny. He couldn't imagine how anyone could have taken him. The family and the ranch hands had been careful to have someone with Johnny at all times. Images of a gun battle flashed in front of Scott's eyes as he prayed his brother was alright.

As Scott approached the fork in the road to Spanish Wells, he could see a man waiting for him. He slowed Remmie into a walk.

Stopping several yards from the man he called out, "I'm here! Where's my brother!?"

"Got him back over behind those rocks," Dunbar waved a hand to a rock outcropping behind him.

"What do you want?" Scott leaned forward in the saddle, craning his neck, trying to see beyond the rocks.

"Money," the answer came in a stutter, "money, and lots of it."

Scott didn't answer right away. He kept looking toward the rocks where Johnny was being held.

"How much do you want?" Scott finally asked.

"Figure he's worth at least $3000, don't you?"

Scott almost laughed_. "$3000," _he thought. _"His brother was worth all the gold in the San Francisco mint. $3000 was nothing."_

"I want to see him. Now!" Scott said as he looked around. Something wasn't right. The man in front of him was too calm. He would think anyone holding Johnny Madrid for ransom would be a little more nervous.

Dunbar smiled, "Sure."

Scott moved closer and dismounted. Keeping his hand on the butt of his gun, he followed Dunbar around the rock outcropping. Expecting to see Johnny bound and gagged, Scott came to an abrupt halt as he rounded the rocks and found another man holding a gun on him.

"You can drop your gun, Lancer," Bleeker ground out.

Scott spun around to find Dunbar standing behind him, also with a gun pointing his way.

"Where's Johnny?" Scott almost shouted the words.

"Well, you see we don't have him… yet, but now that we have you, it's not gonna' be so hard to get him," Dunbar laughed. "Bleeker, tie Mr. Lancer up. We have another meeting to get to."

Scott was fuming. He'd walked into a trap. They didn't have Johnny, at least, not yet. They were going to use him to get his brother. How stupid could he have been? He should have waited for Murdoch and the men.

..********

At 1:00, Johnny slowed his approach to Needle Rock. He knew Walt and the others were close behind, but he needed to get to Scott.

As Needle Rock came into view, Johnny saw the man that had delivered the note to him. He pulled up a few yards from the other rider and scanned the area. Common sense told him that there was more than just this one man.

Cameron was more nervous now than when he had delivered the note. He couldn't believe he'd let Dunbar talk him into sitting out here in the open waiting for Madrid. His mouth was dry, and he was having a hard time swallowing when he heard the icy voice.

"Where's my brother?" Johnny drawled as he leaned across the saddle horn with his left arm. His right hand on the butt of his Colt.

Cameron nodded to the rocks behind him but didn't speak. He didn't think he was able to say anything.

"Talkative, aren't you?" Johnny's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

Cameron swallowed hard. "Mo... money," he finally spat the words out.

Johnny almost laughed. Hell, he had this yahoo scared shitless and had hardly said a word.

"Alright," Johnny pushed his hat back off his forehead with his left hand. "You know I've got to see him before we can work out a deal. So… why don't you go back over there and bring him out."

Cameron's eyes got wide. Dunbar and Bleeker hadn't gotten back with the brother yet.

"You do have Scott back there, don't you?" Johnny's hand was wrapping around the butt of his gun.

The sound of horses brought Johnny's head around. The sight of his brother sent a wave of mixed emotions through him. He was relieved to see Scott was alright and at the same time saddened that because of him Scott was sitting on Remmie with his hands tied.

Dunbar and Bleeker stopped short of Cameron. They could see their partner was more than relieved they were there.

"Scott," Johnny nodded to his brother.

"John," Scott responded shaking his head. "Walked right into it. They sent me a note saying they had you and to come alone."

"Yeah," Johnny kept his eyes on Dunbar and Bleeker. "Got a note just like it, saying they had you."

Dunbar laughed, "Now, we got both of you. Step down out of the saddle, Madrid." Dunbar waved his gun toward Johnny and motioned him to the ground.

Johnny swung out of the saddle.

"Drop the gun belt," Dunbar said, watching Johnny closely.

Johnny started to move his right hand.

"Left hand and don't try anything," Dunbar growled. "My partner has a gun pointed at your brother's back. Wouldn't want to shoot him, but if you…"

"I understand," Johnny answered before Dunbar could finish. Taking his left hand, he unbuckled his gun belt. Pulling it around to the front, he dropped the belt at his feet.

"Cameron, keep him covered," Dunbar ordered.

Cameron leveled his gun at Johnny as Dunbar walked forward with a piece of rope in his hand.

"Put your hands out." Dunbar watched the look on Johnny's face.

Dunbar could honestly say he'd never seen eyes like those that were glaring at him. Hesitating a moment, he almost rethought his plan to get money for Madrid. He knew if he were smart, he'd shoot Madrid now and be done with it.

Johnny extended his hands, knowing once his hands were tied, he'd have little chance of getting his brother out of this mess. Dunbar reached out and started to tie Johnny's hands. The sound of fast-moving horses off in the distance caused Dunbar to look up and curse.

..********

Leon rode back to Green River to get Val. All Val needed to hear was that Johnny needed help. He let Leon explain what was happening while he saddled his horse.

Val took off at full gallop toward the Morro Coyo/Spanish Wells fork in the road when they saw Jose riding toward them.

"Senor Val," Jose called out. "Senor Lancer sent me."

"I know, Jose," Val answered. "Someone's got, Johnny. Let's get to the meeting place. We can track them from there."

"Que?" Jose looked confused. "Senor Val. No one has Senor Johnny. It is Senor Scott that someone has taken. They have told Senor Johnny to meet them at Needle Rock."

Val looked confused.

"Now wait a darn minute. Leon rode into town and said that a man gave him a note to take to Lancer. He gave it to Scott. It said someone had Johnny and for Scott to come alone to the Morro Coyo/Spanish Wells fork in the road at noon."

"No, senor," Jose said, slowly shaking his head. "I was with Juanito when the man delivered the note saying that they had Senor Scott and for Juanito to meet them at Needle Rock at 1:00."

"Damn," Val cursed. He knew what had happened. Use one brother to get the other. Scott would be the easier of the two to take prisoner. Get him first, and then Johnny would give up without a problem.

"Needle Rock, you say?" Val shook his head. "That's where we need to go. It's almost 1:00 now."

The two men turned their horses toward Needle Rock, hoping they'd be in time.

..********

Murdoch and his men were riding toward the fork in the road when he spotted Joe riding full out toward them.

Joe pulled up and told Murdoch about the note Johnny had gotten. It took only a minute for Murdoch to puzzle the pieces together.

"We need to get to Needle Rock," Murdoch yelled out as he turned his horse and kicked him into motion, the ranch hands and vaqueros following.

As they got closer to Needle Rock, Val and Jose saw Walt and his crew. Val didn't take time to explain; he just waved them to follow him. It wasn't long before they caught sight of Murdoch and the men with him.

Soon, it looked like an army of men riding toward Needle Rock.

..********

"Dunbar, we gotta' hurry this along," Cameron nervously said. "Those horses sound like they'll be here any time now."

Johnny still had his hands extended in front of him waiting for Dunbar to tie them. As Dunbar reached for his right wrist, Johnny threw his shoulder into Dunbar's chest. When Dunbar fell backward onto the ground, Johnny reached for the gun at his feet.

Grabbing his gun, Johnny swung around; pointing it at Dunbar.

"Cut him loose," Johnny ordered, motioning to Scott. "Cut him loose, or I'll put a bullet in Dunbar."

"Johnny, watch out," Scott called out, seeing a knife appear in Dunbar's hand.

Johnny's eyes shot up to Scott and then back to Dunbar just as the man lunged at him with a knife. Dunbar recovered faster than Johnny had anticipated.

Johnny tried to step away from the blade coming toward him but wasn't fast enough. Dunbar's knife blade sliced across his rib cage throwing him off balance. The next thing Johnny knew Dunbar was on top of him and they were wrestling on the ground.

Cameron and Bleeker were taken by surprise but quickly recovered. They knew if they were going to get out of this, they were going to have to take Madrid alive.

Scott watched Dunbar as he tackled Johnny, sending them both to the ground. Fighting the ropes holding his hands, all Scott could think of was helping his brother. He stopped struggling when he felt the barrel of Cameron's gun pressed into his side.

"Calm down," Cameron ground out the words as he focused on Dunbar and Madrid.

Bleeker watched the two men grappling on the ground. He held his fire hoping he wouldn't have to kill Madrid.

Finally, Bleeker aimed, squeezing off a shot that put a bullet into the ground near Johnny's head.

"That's enough!" Bleeker yelled.

The two men stopped fighting. Both surprised by the sound of the gunshot and bullet that had come too close.

Johnny pushed himself off of Dunbar and got to his feet. He wiped the blood off the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at the thin slit in his now bloody shirt. Putting a hand over the wound across his ribs, he felt a slow trickle of blood.

Dunbar picked himself up and looked around. The sound of the horses was getting closer. There was still a chance for them to get the money they wanted and get away.

Dunbar walked over to Johnny, balling his fist, he placed it firmly into Johnny's stomach. Johnny staggered backward but kept his balance.

Dunbar picked up the rope he'd dropped and grabbed Johnny's right wrist. Tying the rope around the wrist, he pulled it tight until he felt the man flinch. He smiled knowing he'd caused the gunhawk pain.

"I can't ride like this," Johnny said as his arms were pulled behind his back and his left wrist tied to the right, the ropes painfully rubbing his wrists.

"You'll manage," Dunbar smirked. "Not taking any more chances with you."

"You know there's no way you three are going to get away with this," Johnny drawled as the ropes dug deeper into his wrists.

"I think we will," Dunbar sneered as he wiped his knife blade clean on Johnny's shirt.

Dunbar grabbed Johnny by the arm and pushed him toward the horse Scott was on. "Stand over there with your brother," he said as he picked up his hat and put it on.

Dunbar picked up Johnny's gun belt and hat. He pulled the Colt out with his right hand, holding it in front of him. A disappointed look crossed his face. There wasn't anything special about it. He'd expected Johnny Madrid's gun to be something special.

"Now what?" Johnny asked seeing the expression on Dunbar's face. He was glad he hadn't been wearing his working gun.

"Now, we talk money," Dunbar gave Johnny a lop-sided smile. "Lots of money. Get Madrid on his horse."

Dunbar shoved Johnny's hat on his head and pushed him toward Barranca. Bleeker slid his gun into his holster and lifted Johnny into the saddle.

"Move out," Dunbar ordered.

A dust cloud appeared on the trail leading to Needle Rock. Out of the dust, the horses they'd heard for the last few minutes came into view. When Johnny saw the riders, a smile crossed his face. He glanced at Scott and saw the smile on his face as well. The cavalry had arrived.

Dunbar looked at Johnny and Scott and then over his shoulder at the men coming up in the distance. A moment of panic showed on his face.

"Go on, I'll take care of this," Dunbar said as he motioned to Cameron and Bleeker.

The two men took the reins of Barranca and Remmie, leading them away.

Scott turned and looked toward the riders who were still some distance away. There was no doubt in his mind who the men were. Murdoch sat higher in the saddle than any of the others.

Dunbar turned his horse and waited.

..********

As they got closer to Needle Rock, Val slowed the horses. He explained to Murdoch and the rest what he figured had happened.

Murdoch shook his head. He knew the one sure way to get to his youngest son was to endanger his oldest. The men that had sent the notes knew Johnny's weakness.

Val threw a hand in the air, stopping everyone. Ahead he could see Barranca with Johnny sitting atop. To Johnny's right, was Scott. They both appeared to be alright, at least from a distance.

Murdoch wanted to get to his sons. Val held up a hand, "Murdoch, hold it."

"Val…," Murdoch's voice was halted.

"No, wait. Let's see what the man has to say."

Murdoch looked around at Cipriano, waving him forward. "Cip, take some men and follow them. I want to know where they're taking the boys."

Cipriano nodded and motioned for Jacobs and Walt to go with him.

"Murdoch, you come with me. The rest of you stay here," Val said as he moved forward at a walk.

Dunbar smiled as he saw the two men riding toward him.

Val stopped 40 feet from Dunbar.

"Mister," Val drawled, "appears you got something that belongs to us."

"Looks that way," Dunbar smiled. "You can have them back. They're not hurt… too bad, right now. If you want to keep it that way, you'll give us what we want."

"What do you want?" Val's eyes narrowed.

"Money," Dunbar answered.

"How much money?" Murdoch asked, his stomach in knots.

"$8,000 should do it," Dunbar answered with a smile.

Murdoch's eyes went wide, and the shock showed on his face. "$8,000! I don't have that kind of money just lying around," Murdoch replied.

"I know where you can get it. You see a fellow by the name of Belcher in Green River. He's staying at the hotel. You won't have no trouble getting it from him," Dunbar said.

"Why would he give me that kind of money?" Murdoch asked, clearly confused.

"Let's just say he's concerned that nothing happens to that blond boy of yours. Trust me; he'll give it to you," Dunbar laughed.

"Either of them boys hurt?" Val's eyes fell on Dunbar's hands and shirt, noting the bloodstains. He wanted to know what the man meant when he said _'they're not hurt…too bad._'

Murdoch's eyes followed Val's. He held his breath waiting for Dunbar to answer.

Dunbar hesitated. "Had a little trouble with one of them."

"Which one?" Val asked trying to control his temper and already knowing the answer. Of course, it would be Johnny. The boy was a magnet for trouble.

Holding his answer for a few seconds, Dunbar answered, "Don't matter. Whichever one it is, is gonna' need some doctoring. We'll keep him alive until we get the money, then you can have your Doc look him over. Let's say noon tomorrow, right here."

Murdoch looked at Val, his mind racing a mile a minute. What if he couldn't get the money?

Dunbar turned to leave. He looked over his shoulder one more time, "Noon tomorrow and go see Belcher."

Dunbar rode off following his partners.

Murdoch looked at Val. "Now, what do we do?"

Val quickly answered, "We go see Belcher."

..********

Cameron and Bleeker soon learned that Dunbar wasn't someone who gave a great deal of thought to a plan. Now that they had Lancer's sons, they wondered where they were going to keep the men until Dunbar made the exchange for the money.

As they rode away, leading the two horses behind them, Cameron and Bleeker realized they had no idea where they were going.

Cameron kept glancing at Bleeker, while Bleeker was doing the same to Cameron. Each was hoping the other had a clue what to do next.

Finally, it was Cameron who pulled up.

"Bleeker?" Cameron asked more than a little confused and concerned.

Bleeker drew up beside him. "Yeah?"

"Where are we taking these two?"

"How should I know? Dunbar didn't tell me. I thought he told you," Bleeker answered, annoyed with the question and at the same time wondering himself.

Cameron shook his head slowly, "He didn't tell me either. Maybe we should wait for him."

Behind them, Scott and Johnny looked at each other, shaking their heads. If it weren't such a serious matter, the two men would have been laughing out loud. Scott looked at his brother's shirt. The thin cut in the cloth was saturated with blood, and it looked like it was still bleeding.

"Johnny," Scott whispered, "how bad is it?"

Johnny looked down at the knife wound and shook his head. With his hands tied behind him, he couldn't stem the flow of blood. He could only hope it would stop bleeding on its own.

"I'll live," Johnny answered. He looked up at the two men ahead of them and chuckled. "Can you believe these two? I don't think there's a brain between them."

"They do seem to be having a hard time of it," Scott replied.

Movement off to their right caught Johnny's attention. Scott's eyes followed his brother's gaze. On the hill above them, were three riders. Johnny smiled when he recognized his uncle.

The two boys gave each other a knowing smile.

The sound of a rider coming from behind them, caused Cameron and Bleeker to look around. Dunbar had caught up with them.

"Why'd you stop?" Dunbar yelled.

"Where are we supposed to be going?" Bleeker yelled back. "You didn't tell us where we were to supposed to go."

"Yeah," Cameron joined in. "You didn't tell us where we were supposed to go."

Dunbar shook his head. He was working with idiots. Did he have to think of everything? Then it dawned on him that he didn't know where to take them either.

Dunbar wasn't what you would call a far thinker. While he thought of himself as being smart, in reality, he was anything but. He really hadn't given his plan a lot of thought past getting the two Lancer boys and then the money. No, he hadn't planned on where he was going to hold them until the next day.

Scott listened to the three men debate the topic of a place to hold up. To him, these three were just stupid enough to be dangerous.

"Excuse me," Scott spoke up. Johnny's head popped up looking at his brother.

"Yeah?" Dunbar answered

"I hate to press you, but my brother is bleeding, and we need to get someplace where I can take care of him."

"We're thinkin' on it," Dunbar growled.

"_Think faster, you idiot," _Scott wanted to yell,_ "my brother's hurt._

Scott cleared his throat. "Lancer has a line shack not far from here at Fern Falls," Scott said. "You could always take us there."

Johnny's eyes narrowed, wondering what his brother was thinking.

"Why would we go someplace you thought up? Why there?" Cameron asked.

"Because," Scott straightened himself in the saddle and leaned forward, "the line shack would give you a place to keep us, and I know there are medical supplies there. It's just a suggestion. I'm sure you already have a place in mind, though."

The three would be kidnappers looked at each other and shrugged.

"Which way is it?" Dunbar asked.

..********

As they approached the line shack at Fern Falls, Dunbar sent Cameron ahead to look the place over and make sure there wasn't someone already there.

Cameron wasn't happy about being the guy out in front. It seemed that every time there was something with a possibility of danger, Dunbar sent him. He thought to argue the point with Dunbar but decided against it.

Cameron walked into the line shack and looked around. It was a one-room building with two cots and a stove. There was a table near the window with two chairs around it. It would do.

Walking out to the porch, Cameron waved his hat at the others. Soon Dunbar and Bleeker were leading Scott and Johnny's horses into the clearing in front of the building.

Dunbar went first to Scott, pulling him from the saddle. Scott walked around Remmie to help Johnny down.

Johnny's hands had been tied so long he no longer had feeling in them. He'd been holding onto the saddle using his legs and thighs. When his feet hit the ground, his legs buckled.

Scott tried to hold Johnny up, but with his hands tied together, it was impossible.

"Untie us," Scott demanded. "Let me help him."

"No way," Dunbar snorted. "You think I'm gonna' untie Madrid? You think I'm an idiot?"

Scott looked at the man and closed his eyes. That's precisely what he thought the man was.

"Get him inside," Dunbar ordered Bleeker and Cameron.

The two men half carried, half walked Johnny into the shack, Scott following closely behind.

They dropped Johnny onto one of the cots in the room. As he tried to sit up, he looked around to see Scott coming in the door.

"Dunbar," Scott spoke up, "if we promise not to try to escape will you untie us? At least long enough for me to take care of his wound."

Dunbar thought for a moment and looked at Johnny.

"What about you, Madrid?"

Johnny looked at Scott and then back to Dunbar. Scott was willing to give this man his word that they wouldn't try anything. He thought for a few moments longer, then felt blood running down his side. Finally, he nodded his agreement.

"Untie them," Dunbar motioned to Bleeker. "If they try anything, put a bullet in them. I'll see to the horses."

Bleeker untied first Scott and then Johnny.

Johnny painfully moved his arms and tried to flex his hands. He hissed and took a deep breath. They were numb. He knew when the feeling returned; they were going to hurt like hell.

Scott pushed Johnny down on the cot and unbuttoned his shirt. Lifting the blood-soaked shirt away from the knife wound, he frowned. It was still bleeding and already fiery red.

"It's not that bad," Johnny saw the expression on his brother's face.

"It's bad enough," Scott answered. Looking around the shack, he tried to remember where they kept the medical kit. Standing up, he started to move to the storage boxes on the other side of the room.

"Hold it," Bleeker yelled out. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I need the medical supplies. I think they're in those boxes. I also need some water. Would one of you go out to the stream and get some?" Scott stood still until Bleeker took time to think about the request. As he waited, Scott wondered silently, how Bleeker had lived as long as he had. The man couldn't make a decision on his own if he tried.

Finally, Bleeker looked at Scott and came to a decision. "Go ahead. Just remember, you try anything, and I put a bullet in your brother. Cameron, go get some water."

"Why don't you go," Cameron rebelled. "I'll watch 'em. I end up doing everything."

Scott walked across the room and started rummaging through the boxes. He found the medical supplies he needed as well as bandages. Looking back at his brother, he could see Johnny staring at his hands.

Scott grimaced as his eyes followed Johnny's. Johnny's hands were swollen with a blue tinge to them.

It wasn't long before Cameron came back with a bucket of water, sitting it next to the cot. Scott soaked a towel in the cold water and placed it over Johnny's hands.

Johnny looked up at his brother. Scott could see pain and also a silent 'thank you' in his blue eyes.

Scott started cleaning the knife wound, soliciting a few hisses as he did.

"Sorry," Scott whispered, trying not to hurt Johnny any further.

"It's alright." Looking over Scott's shoulder at Bleeker and Cameron, Johnny asked, "Where did Dunbar go?"

"Taking care of the horses." Scott took a deep breath, grimacing. The long gash on his brother's chest needed more attention than he could give. "You know, little brother, this is going to leave a scar."

"Yeah? It'll match the one I have on the other side."

"You do seem to have a propensity for injury," Scott frowned. Each scar meant pain; so many scars; so much pain. "How are your hands?"

"What do you mean propen…? What's that?" Johnny asked.

"It means, you tend to get hurt a lot," Scott smiled. "Now, how are your hands?"

"Feeling's starting to come back," Johnny flinched.

Scott reached down and removed the cloth covering Johnny's hands. Dipping it in the water bucket again, he wrung it out, before placing it back over the bloated hands.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," Scott quietly spoke.

"What have you got to be sorry for?" Johnny asked, watching his brother's face as he worked.

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

"Scott, the way I look at it, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here."

Scott huffed, "Well, it looks like we're both at fault. If we can't blame ourselves, then who do we blame?"

Johnny closed his eyes and sighed. It was his fault, no matter what Scott said. "Guess we'll blame it on whoever hired Dunbar."

Scott nodded, "That sounds about right, little brother. Whoever it is has a lot to answer for."

Dunbar stomped back into the building, slamming the door shut behind him. Walking over to the cot, he looked down at Johnny.

"_So, this was Madrid," _Dunbar thought_._

Belcher had hired them to terrorize Lancer and discredit Madrid. Hell, the way everyone talked, Madrid was faster than lighting and had to be ten foot tall. This… boy was… well, he sure wasn't ten feet tall. As for being faster than lightning, Dunbar wasn't anxious to find out.

"Get him bandaged up," Dunbar snapped at Scott. Then turning to Bleeker, "Tie them back up once he's done."

Scott jumped to his feet. "No, you can't tie him up again. Look at his hands." Scott removed the wet cloth covering Johnny's still swollen hands. "He couldn't hold a gun even if he had one."

Dunbar studied Madrid's hands, nodding. "Alright, we leave his wrists untied, but I'm tying him down to that bed."

Scott glared at Dunbar. It was going to be a long afternoon and night. At least there wouldn't be any additional risk to Johnny's hands.

Scott nodded, "At least let me make him comfortable first."

Dunbar turned to Cameron and Bleeker, "Cameron, see if you can find something to eat in here. Bleeker, I want you to keep a watch out there. Make sure we don't have any uninvited company."

Cameron frowned, feeling put upon again. "What are you going to do?"

Dunbar smile, "I'm gonna' watch our bank accounts here. Gonna' make sure they don't try anything."

"I've already told you we wouldn't try to escape," Scott responded.

"Yeah, I heard what you said," Dunbar hissed. "Still don't trust you. We want our money, and I'm gonna' make sure we get it. We either get the money or the satisfaction of knowing we killed Madrid."

..********

Harlan waited a few minutes after Murdoch rode out with his men before walking to the barn.

Seeing one of the vaqueros, Harlan waved to him. "What's your name?"

"Pedro, Senor," the vaquero gave Harlan a brief nod. He knew who Garrett was and didn't think he liked him any more than Johnny did.

"Well, Pedro, I need the buggy hitched up," Harlan commanded. "I have business in town."

"Senor, you wish to go alone? It is not safe for you to travel alone. I cannot leave, and the other men have gone with El Patron," Pedro was concerned that if he let Senor Scott's abuelo go into town alone, he would be in trouble.

"I can handle myself, now hitch up the buggy." Harlan used the usual tone he did with hired help.

Pedro did as he was told and handed the reins to Harlan once the older man was seated.

"When should I tell Senor Scott or El Patron that you will return, Senor Garrett?"

"I'll be back later this afternoon," Harlan answered annoyed with Pedro questioning him.

With a flick of the reins, Harlan drove the buggy out of the yard, under the arch, and toward Green River.

Once in Green River, Harlan went straight to the hotel. Stopping at the front desk, he asked if Belcher was in his room. When the clerk replied with 'yes,' Harlan wasted no time in going upstairs to Belcher's room.

Harlan repeatedly pounded on the door until it opened.

A startled Jack Belcher stood back as Harlan Garrett rushed into his room.

"Mr. Garrett," Belcher sputtered. "I wasn't expecting you."

Harlan turned on Belcher with fire in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Sir?" Belcher took two steps back.

"Wrong? Wrong? What's wrong, Belcher, is that your men have kidnapped Madrid," Harlan sputtered.

"That can't be," Belcher responded to his red-faced employer.

"They had a ransom note delivered to my grandson. Now he's gone off to who knows where to try and rescue his half-breed brother. You have to do something, Belcher. Where would they take Madrid?" Harlan paced as he spoke. "Scotty could be hurt trying to get him back."

"Mr. Garrett, I can assure you I have no idea where they would take him. I can't believe they would turn on me. They've been paid well for their services," Belcher collapsed in one of the chairs, trying to think. "Do you know how much they're asking?"

"No," Harlan answered. "I came straight here once Murdoch left with his men to follow Scotty."

"Mr. Garrett, perhaps it's for the best. Surely, if something happened to Madrid, your grandson wouldn't want to stay here. Not after all that has already happened," Belcher was reaching for straws now hoping to turn the situation with Garrett around.

"I don't….," a knock at the door interrupted what Harlan was going to say. A moment of panic hit him. No one could know he was here.

"In the bedroom," Belcher uttered, taking Harlan's arm and almost pushed him into the adjoining room.

"One minute," Belcher called out as he pulled the bedroom door closed. Straightening his suit jacket, he went to the door, opening it slowly. Belcher was surprised to see not only the Sheriff but also Murdoch Lancer.

Swallowing hard, Belcher composed himself. "May I help you…?"

Val pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Murdoch was two steps behind him.

"Mr. Belcher, I'm Val Crawford. I'm the Sheriff of Green River," Val introduced himself as he looked around the room, noting the closed bedroom door. When he'd searched the rooms, the door had been open. "This is Murdoch Lancer."

"How can I help you, Sheriff?" Belcher asked straining his neck to look up at Murdoch.

"Belcher, we were told to come to you about getting money to ransom Mr. Lancer's sons," Val said waiting for the man's reaction.

"Money?" Sheriff Crawford, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why would someone send you to me to … what did you say, 'ransom' Mr. Lancer's son?"

"Not a son," Murdoch spoke up, "sons. Three men are holding both of my sons for ransom and are asking $8,000 for their return. The leader seemed to think you would give me the money."

"Both of your sons?" Belcher glanced toward the bedroom door trying to hide the panic he was feeling. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I don't know why someone would send you to me. I don't think I've ever met Mr. Lancer's sons."

"Do you know anything about the three men we're talking about?" Val asked, eyes narrowing.

"No. I don't know anything."

"This is a waste of time, Val," Murdoch said as he turned to leave. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't get that kind of money together by noon tomorrow."

Val gritted his teeth, ready to grab Belcher and beat the truth out of him. "Belcher, I hear you had anything to do with this; I'll shoot you myself…law or no law."

"Sheriff, I swear…," Belcher began.

"Come on, Val." Murdoch eyed first at Val and then Belcher. There was more going on than anyone was telling him.

Val knew that if he confronted Belcher, word would get back to Scott. He couldn't betray Johnny's trust. Val gave Belcher a stern look before following Murdoch out the door.

Once the door to the room closed, the bedroom door flew open. Harlan fairly ran into the room. Belcher braced himself for Garrett's verbal attack.

"They've taken Scotty, too," Harlan tried to control himself. "Belcher we have to do something. Those men could hurt him just because he's related to … to… Madrid."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go after the Sheriff and Murdoch. Tell them that you'll give them the money. I want my grandson back," Harlan collapsed in a chair.

"What do I tell the Sheriff and Lancer when they ask why I'm giving them the money?"

"You'll think of something. Just do it and do it now," Harlan jumped from the chair, opened the door, and pushed Belcher out into the hall. "Go, man; get it done."

Belcher looked back at the door to his room, as it closed in his face. He quickly made his way out of the hotel and onto the boardwalk. He caught sight of the tall rancher disappearing into the Sheriff's office.

Belcher had no idea how he was going to explain his sudden generosity toward the Lancers. As he made his way to the Sheriff's office, Belcher looked over his shoulder to see Harlan Garrett driving away in a buggy.

Belcher made sure Garrett saw him enter the Sheriff's office. He knew what he had to do and it didn't include working for Harlan Garrett much longer.

Coming to a stop in front of the Sheriff's office, Belcher stood up straight, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

..********

Murdoch stepped out of Val's office shaking his head. He'd never in his life had a meeting or an experience like the one he and Val just had with Jack Belcher.

Belcher had rushed into Val's office apologizing for being insensitive to the needs of a worried father. He readily agreed to 'loan' the money to the rancher so that his sons would be released.

Murdoch wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He needed the money, and he desperately wanted to get his sons back.

They'd waited for almost an hour for Belcher to come back with the money. Tired of waiting, Val went to the hotel to check on the man. Carl at the front desk said that Belcher had rushed in an hour earlier, checked out, and left town after buying a horse.

Val slowly walked back to his office, trying to figure out how to tell Murdoch that the man they were relying on had left town.

Murdoch was pacing when Val stepped into his office.

"Where's Belcher?" Murdoch stopped pacing and faced Val.

"Gone," Val shook his head in disbelief. "He's gone. Carl said he checked out, bought a horse, and rode out of town right after he left here."

Murdoch sank into a chair and put his head in his hands.

"I don't understand. Belcher came to us. Why? Why would he tell us he's loaning the money and then ride out of town?"

"Hell, I don't know, Murdoch," Val answered as he sat down. "Why has any of this happened?"

"Any of what?" Murdoch raised his head, staring at Val.

Val took a deep breath, thinking carefully before answering.

"I think Belcher is behind hiring the men that have been shooting up Lancer. The same men who have Scott and Johnny."

"But why? To what end?"

"I don't have all the answers," Val answered as he stood up. "May not ever get all of them. All I know is Belcher hired those three to shoot at Johnny."

"Now, they have him," Murdoch was on his feet. "What if they have no intention of giving him back even if I did have the money?"

"I'd already thought of that," Val replied wearily.

"We need to get back to the ranch. Cipriano may have sent word where those men are keeping the boys," Murdoch said turning to the door.

Val put on his hat and followed Murdoch out. Murdoch started toward his horse when he saw Walt riding toward him.

"Mr. Lancer!" Walt called out. Walt came to a stop in front of Murdoch, jumping off his horse.

"Walt, did Cipriano send you?"

"Yes, sir, he did," Walt answered as Val stepped out of the Sheriff's office and onto the boardwalk. Standing next to Murdoch, he waited for Walt to catch his breath.

"Did you find the boys?" Val asked.

Walt nodded. "We followed them to the line shack at Fern Falls. They're holed up there right now. Watched them take both Scott and Johnny inside."

"Which one of them was hurt?" Val asked glancing at Murdoch.

Walt looked surprised, "How'd…"

"Figured one of them was hurt. That man we were talking to had blood on his shirt and hands," Val answered before Walt could finish asking the question.

Walt dipped his head and sighed, "Looks like it was Johnny. Scott helped him off of Barranca, and two of the men carried him into the line shack."

Neither Val nor Murdoch asked if Walt could tell how bad it was. They knew Walt would have told them if he knew.

"Cipriano and Jacobs are still out there. Cip sent me to let you know what's going on. Figured you'd want me to go get the rest of the men and get everyone headed toward Fern Falls." Walt waited for Murdoch's instructions.

Murdoch nodded, "Walt, Val and I are going back to the ranch. I know you're tired, but can you go back to Cipriano. Tell him to keep watching the line shack. Once we've had time to decide on a plan, we'll bring the men to Fern Falls. Don't let anyone go near the line shack until we have a plan in place to get the boys out safely."

"You got it, Boss," Walt mounted again and rode back toward Lancer.

"Val," Murdoch said as he pushed his hat back on his head, "what do you think we should do?"

Val wasn't listening to Murdoch. He was looking down the street toward the saloon.

Murdoch's eyes followed Val's. A lone man was tying his horse to the rail in front of the saloon. When the man turned around, they could see the gun riding low on the man's leg. Another gunfighter had arrived in town.

Murdoch turned, putting his hand over his eyes. Murdoch Lancer was a strong man, but he didn't know how much more he could take. Ever since that day the four gunfighters rode into Lancer and called his youngest son out, life had gone from one heart-wrenching moment to the next.

Now, he had two kidnapped sons. If that weren't bad enough, his youngest son would once again be fighting for his life against the gunfighter that had just ridden into town.

Murdoch felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Val with the same worried look in his eyes. Murdoch realized that Val was going through the same emotional upheaval he was.

"We don't have time for this," Val sighed looking into Murdoch's eyes. "We fight one battle at a time. Right now, we need to go after Scott and Johnny. We'll worry about the gunhawk later."

"Val, I don't…," Murdoch started to say, feeling the weight of Val's hand grounding him.

"Yes, you can and you will. We'll get through this," Val said taking his hand away from the older man's shoulder. "You ready to go?"

"Yes, Val," Murdoch nodded, "more than ready. I want our boys back."

..********

Exhausted, Murdoch and Val rode back to Lancer late in the afternoon. Neither man spoke a word on the trip to the ranch.

Stopping in front of the house, Pedro came from the barn. "I will take care of the horses, Patron."

"Thank you, Pedro. Has Cipriano come back yet?" Murdoch asked the vaquero as he started to into the house.

"Si, Patron. Cipriano is at the bunkhouse. I will tell him you are back. Oh, and, Patron, Senor Garrett has returned safely."

"Garrett?" Murdoch stopped mid-step, turning toward the vaquero. "Where did he go?"

"Senor Garrett said he had business in Green River this morning, Patron. He left a few minutes after you went out after Senor Scott," Pedro answered. "Senor Garrett insisted I hitch up the buggy for him. I tried to tell him not to go alone, Patron, but he would not listen."

Murdoch looked at Val, frowning, "That's alright, Pedro. Ask Cipriano to come to the house when he can."

"Si, Patron," the vaquero turned and started to lead the horses away.

"So, Garrett was in town today," Val stated.

"Val, you don't think Harlan has anything to do with that man Belcher, do you?" Murdoch studied Val's expression.

Val was hesitant to say anything. Both he and Johnny had agreed not to discuss their suspicions about Garrett for fear it would get back to Scott.

"I'm sure Garrett just had business in town," Val said. "I wonder if he knows about Scott?"

"Only one way to find out," Murdoch stated as he turned and started to walk to the house.

..********

Harlan had only been back at the house an hour when he heard Murdoch and Val ride up. Looking out the window of his room, he saw them talking to the man… what was his name? Oh, yes, Pedro. He was sure Pedro told the rancher he had gone to town. Well, that didn't mean anything, did it?

Straightening his tie, Harlan admired himself in the mirror, giving a knowing smile. Knowing Murdoch Lancer had the money from Belcher, he was sure Scotty would be home soon.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do after that. The men Belcher had hired were going to be of no use to him now. His goal was still to rid the world of one John Madrid, and Harlan Garrett never failed to get what he wanted.

Harlan left his room and went into the Great Room just as Cipriano was coming through the French doors.

Murdoch and Val noticed Harlan enter the room but turned to Cipriano.

"Cipriano," Val spoke first, "you left men watching the line shack?"

"Si, Val, Jacobs is there. I sent Walt, Slim, and Jose to be with him," Cipriano answered watching Harlan move across the room.

"Murdoch, have you any word about Scotty?" Harlan asked.

"Only that he's at the line shack at Fern Falls with Johnny. It appears the men that have been firing on the ranch the last few weeks are behind this," Murdoch answered as he moved to the drink cart and poured a Scotch.

"I understand they want a great deal of money. Do you have it?" Harlan asked.

"We thought we had it," Murdoch gulped his drink, "but as it turns out… no, we didn't get it."

For a moment, Harlan thought he'd heard wrong. "What do you mean? You didn't get it?"

"There was a man in town by the name of Jack Belcher. For some reason, the kidnappers thought he would give us the $8,000 we needed," Murdoch shook his head and then sat down heavily in a chair. "First, Belcher turned us away empty-handed. Not twenty minutes later he walked into Val's office and said he would loan us the money. Naturally, I was thrilled. Belcher went to get the money while we waited for him."

"Well?" Harlan was impatient to hear what had happened.

"When Belcher didn't come back, I went to the hotel to see what had happened to him. The desk clerk said that Belcher checked out, bought a horse, and rode out of town." Val finished the telling.

"Left town?" Harlan found the nearest chair, sitting down.

"Looks like it," Val answered, keeping his eyes on Harlan. Val already knew that Belcher worked for Garrett. He wanted to laugh right then and there. Harlan Garrett had lost control of his hired help, and now Scott was in as much danger as Johnny.

"What…what are you going to do now?" Harlan looked over at Murdoch.

"We're going to go get the boys," Murdoch answered finishing his drink in one long gulp.

Murdoch looked up as Teresa entered the room.

"Aw, Teresa, good." Murdoch stood up. "We're going to go after the boys. We know that John is hurt; we don't know how bad yet." Then turning to Cipriano, "Cip, send one of the men to town for Sam. I want him here when we get back. Have whoever you send tell Sam he's spending the night."

Cipriano nodded and moved toward the door when he heard Val call to him, "Cip get the men ready. I want to get there before dark. It looks like we're gonna' have to wait until morning to flush them out. Might want to get enough supplies for tonight."

Cipriano nodded again before walking out of the room.

"Sheriff, what are you planning? I don't want my grandson to be placed in any more danger than he is already," Harlan stated as he stood up, confronting Val.

"We're going to do whatever it takes to get Scott and Johnny back," Val answered.

"I'm sure it's Johnny these men were after and Scott has been caught in the middle of it," Harlan said. "I've tried to stress to Scott how dangerous it is around his half-brother."

"Well, Mr. Garrett," Val sneered, "it seems to me this time it was Scott the men were after and Johnny ended up in the middle of it. Those men told us that Belcher was concerned that Scott didn't get hurt. Matter of fact, he told us Belcher would give us the money to get Scott, and it sounded like he was throwing Johnny in for free."

"Nonsense," Harlan pulled himself up, "we all know that Mad…John is who these men have been after all along."

"Do we, Harlan?" Murdoch asked. Murdoch ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Val, I'll be ready in ten minutes."

Val nodded and gave Harlan an angry look. He picked up his hat and walked out of the room.

Harlan turned to his son-in-law. "Murdoch, please bring Scotty back safely."

Murdoch looked at Harlan, wanting to wring the man's neck. "I plan to bring both my sons back safely, Harlan."

Murdoch stomped up the stairs to his room. He needed a few minutes to compose himself and to get away from Harlan.

..********

It was near sundown when Murdoch and Val arrived at Fern Falls with the men.

While Cipriano went about getting the camp set up, Murdoch crept closer to the line shack. Sitting quietly in the fading light, Murdoch watched and listened for any sign of his sons. Snapping twigs to his right caused him to turn. Val moved through the shadows.

"Anything?" Val asked kneeling next to Murdoch.

"No, nothing," Murdoch answered, turning to look at the line shack.

"We'd better get back to camp," Val said putting a hand on Murdoch's shoulder. "Come morning; we'll get them back."

The two men made their way to camp to wait out the long night.

..********

"Bleeker, hand me that rope," Dunbar smirked as his eyes stayed on Johnny.

Scott took a step toward the bed where Johnny was lying when he was stopped by Bleeker's gun pointed at his chest.

"What….?" Scott started to say.

"Like I said, Madrid isn't going anywhere. Gonna' tie him down good," Dunbar grinned as Bleeker handed him the rope.

Dunbar was taking great pleasure in tying Madrid to the bed. First, he wrapped the rope around the gunfighter's legs and tied them to the bed frame. Next, he looped the rope over Madrid's chest and arms.

As the rope was pulled tight across the knife wound, Dunbar heard Madrid hiss in pain.

"Stop!" Scott called out, forcing himself past Bleeker.

Dunbar hesitated, looking at Scott.

"Let me move the rope up; away from the wound."

Dunbar looked at Madrid who was trying to hide the pain he'd caused. Dunbar nodded.

Scott lifted the rope and moved it.

Johnny looked at his brother and smiled. He started to say 'thanks' when the last rope was pulled even tighter.

Dunbar finished securing the rope, giving it an extra tug before he was finished.

Johnny spent the night tied to the bed, and in his opinion, Dunbar had done a right fine job of it too. By the time Dunbar finished, Johnny felt like a trussed-up turkey.

Scott made sure Johnny was covered and warm before settling next to the bed waiting his turn to be tied.

Dunbar looked at the brothers. He knew Madrid wasn't going anywhere. He also knew the blond wouldn't try anything and leave Madrid behind.

To Scott's surprise, Dunbar hadn't tied him up. He spent the night on the floor beside Johnny's bed. Several times during the night he'd checked to see that Johnny was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could be under the circumstances.

Scott knew that Johnny was still hurting. The knife wound was redder, showing signs of infection. Johnny's hands were still swollen, and his wrists were red and raw where the rope had cut into them.

Scott leaned over his brother with a wet cloth, wiping his face.

Opening his eyes, Johnny peered over Scott's shoulder. He could see Bleeker nodding off and Dunbar sleeping.

"Scott," Johnny whispered, "they didn't take my boot knife."

Scott's eyes went to Johnny's feet, and then he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. "Which boot?"

"Left," Johnny whispered.

"Can you hold it, if I get it for you?" Scott asked looking at his brother's hands.

Johnny closed his eyes and flexed his right hand. He slowly shook his head. There was no way he was going to be able to hold the knife handle.

Scott nodded and continued to wipe Johnny's fevered brow. Scott put the cloth down and began straightening the blanket over his brother. When he got to his feet, he lifted the blanket edge and looked at the left boot. Looking over his shoulder one more time, Scott saw no one paying attention to him. Scott slipped the knife out of Johnny's boot, pushing it up his right sleeve.

Scott retook his place next to the bed so that his shoulder was near the ropes at Johnny's feet.

The rest of the night, Scott slowly worked away at cutting the rope that held his brother to the bed.

..********

When the first light of day filtered into the room, Dunbar walked over to the bed and looked at Madrid.

Johnny and Scott were watching Dunbar closely. Dunbar reached down and picked up Johnny's right wrist. Johnny tried to pull his hand away, but Dunbar held it tight and turned the swollen hand over to examine it.

"Looks like it hurts," Dunbar said with a grin. "It sure don't look like you're gonna' be using a gun anytime soon, now does it?"

Johnny didn't say anything as he tried to keep the pain from showing on his face.

Dunbar turned the wrist loose. Turning to look at Scott, Dunbar started to say something when a voice could be heard calling to the shack.

"Listen up. You in there, the place is surrounded. Come out with your hands up."

..********

They'd waited until the sun started to rise over the nearby hills.

"Might as well get this over with," Val said as he buckled on his gun belt, then set his hat on his head.

"Be careful, Val. I don't think my youngest son would forgive me if anything happened to you," Murdoch said jokingly.

"Naw," Val answered with a lop-sided grin, "it wouldn't be you the boy would be pissed at. It would be me for not getting out of the way of the bullet."

"Well, let's not give him a chance to be mad at either of us," Murdoch replied putting a hand on Val's shoulder.

Val nodded and then waved everyone forward.

"You all know what to do. Spread out and wait for me."

Val walked out of the tree line. He stood in front of the line shack with his right hand on the butt of his gun. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Murdoch's anxious face. To his left and right were men with rifles all pointed at the shack.

"Listen up," Val called out. "You in there, the place is surrounded. Come out with your hands up."

He could hear chairs scraping on the floor inside and one person yelling orders to the others.

Bleeker looked out the small window of the shack and then back to Dunbar. "It's that Sheriff.".

Scott jumped to his feet.

"Stay right there, Lancer," Dunbar hissed aiming his gun at Scott. "Get over there with Madrid and sit down."

Scott sat down on the edge of the bed laying a hand on Johnny's arm.

"Don't worry," Johnny whispered. "Val's out there. He'll get us out of here."

Scott nodded, turning his attention back to watching Dunbar and the others. Reaching behind him, he took the knife he had up his sleeve and placed it in Johnny's swollen hand, then pulled the blanket to cover it.

Johnny nodded. He knew his feet were already free. Now all he needed to do was cut through the rope across his chest.

Dunbar moved to one of the small windows, knocking the glass out with the rifle in his hand, he called out.

"Not coming out, Sheriff. Told you yesterday, you can have them when we get our money. No one has to die."

"Belcher's gone," Val called back. "There's no money."

Dunbar looked at Cameron and Bleeker.

"What's he mean by that?" Cameron asked. "Belcher's gone? How we gonna' get our money if he's gone? Dunbar, what's he mean?"

"I don't know," Dunbar turned, putting his back against the wall of the shack. Shaking his head as he looked at the floor. "Let me think."

"Dunbar, you said…," Cameron started to say.

"I know what I said!" Dunbar yelled at Cameron. "Shut up and let me think!"

Dunbar looked around the room, his eyes falling on Scott. "Get him over here."

Bleeker walked across the room. Grabbing Scott's arm, he pulled him off the bed, pushing him to Dunbar. He and Cameron waited to find out what Dunbar had in mind.

"We're gonna' get out of here," Dunbar said with a grin.

Scott could almost see the man's mind working.

Cameron looked at Scott and then Johnny, "What about Madrid?"

Dunbar's eyes followed Cameron's. What was he going to do about Madrid? Leaving a man like Madrid alive to come after them wasn't a good idea.

Dunbar smiled, "We're taking this one with us, and we're gonna' make sure Madrid don't come after us."

"What are you planning?" Scott asked as he looked back at his helpless brother.

"You'll see," Dunbar grabbed Scott's arm, pulling him around to stand in front of him. With a gun in Scott's back, he prodded him to the door. "Cameron, open the door."

Cameron pulled the door open, then stepping back out of the line of sight.

"Sheriff," Dunbar called out as he pushed Scott out the door, "hold your fire. We don't want anyone hurt. We're coming out. Gonna' get on our horses, and we're riding away. We're gonna' take this one with us until we get clear. Then we'll let him go."

Upon seeing Scott, Val's eyes narrowed, "Scott, you alright?"

Scott glanced over his shoulder at Dunbar and nodded. "I'm …fine," Scott responded.

Val looked past Scott and Dunbar into the darkness of the shack. Val licked his lips before asking, "Scott, is…?"

Scott hesitantly nodded, "Yes, he's alright or will be when we get him home. Not sure what Dunbar here has in mind, but I'd like to get this over with."

Val let a brief smile cross his face before straightening up, getting serious again.

"Cipriano, get their horses saddled," Val called out.

Cipriano hesitated, looking at Murdoch. It wasn't until he saw Murdoch nod that he started calling out orders for the men to get the horses saddled.

Dunbar pulled Scott back into the shack. "We're gonna' tie you up, Lancer."

"Why?" Scott asked. "I told you I wouldn't try to escape."

Dunbar didn't say anything as he pulled Scott's arms forward, tying his wrists in front of him. He looked over Scott's shoulder to Johnny, working out his plan in his mind.

"Dunbar!" Val could be heard calling out. "The horses are here. Let the Lancers go. We'll let you ride out."

"Cameron, Bleeker, get this one out there and mount up," Dunbar ordered. "I'll be along in a minute."

"What are you going to do?" Scott called out struggling against Cameron and Bleeker as they pushed him toward the door.

"Not gonna' do anything," Dunbar lied. "Go on; get him out of here."

Cameron opened the door, pushing a still struggling Scott onto the porch of the line shack. With Cameron on one side of him and Bleeker on the other, Scott strained to look over his shoulder as Dunbar closed the door.

Johnny had been lying quietly waiting to see what Dunbar had in mind. Watching Scott struggling against the ropes on his wrists and pushed out the door made him mad. No one hurt his brother, no one.

Dunbar walked across the room and stood over Johnny.

"You hurt my brother and I'll hunt you down. There won't be any place you can hide," Johnny Lancer was gone, and Johnny Madrid had surfaced.

Dunbar swallowed hard, taking a step backward. The look in Madrid's eyes sent a chill through the man. He knew that if he let Madrid live, he'd never see another moment's peace.

Bending over the bed, he grabbed Johnny's face with his right hand. With his left he stuffed a bandana into Johnny's mouth, effectively gagging him.

"We're gonna' let your brother go, just like I said," Dunbar took another step back toward the door. "We need a distraction so we can get away and you're gonna' give us one."

Johnny didn't ask the 'how' part. He had a bad feeling about the way Dunbar was acting, and the fact that he was now gagged didn't help.

Dunbar moved to the oil lamp sitting on the table. Picking it up, he unscrewed the top and poured the oil around the room. Grinning, he took one more look at the man on the bed. Opening the door to the shack, Dunbar struck a match and tossed it on top of the oil on the floor. Without saying another word, he stepped out onto the porch, closing the door firmly behind him.

Once outside, Dunbar saw that Cameron, Bleeker, and Scott were already mounted.

"Move out," Dunbar told Cameron and Bleeker as he mounted. Turning in the saddle, he looked at Val. "We'll let him go in an hour. No one follows us. You understand?"

"We understand, Dunbar. You better understand something, too. If anything happens to him there won't be any place you can hide," Val drawled.

"I've heard that before," Dunbar said, realizing that Cameron and Bleeker hadn't started moving.

Scott had a look of panic on his face as he looked around. There was no way he was going with these men. His only thought was of getting to Johnny. He knew deep down that something was wrong. Looking back at line shack, he thought he saw a whiff of smoke coming from under the door.

"Nooo!" Scott screamed as he threw himself out of the saddle, taking everyone by surprise.

The moment Scott was on the ground, all hell broke loose around him. Dunbar aimed at Scott. A bullet from Murdoch's gun cut the kidnapper down before he could pull the trigger.

Cameron and Bleeker sat frozen. They both knew they'd end up at the end of a rope for kidnapping the Lancers. Neither man was prepared for that. Cameron was the first to try to ride away. The sound of a rifle shot rang through the air and Cameron toppled from his horse. Bleeker followed only seconds later.

Except for Murdoch, everyone was now running toward Scott. Val reached Scott, pulling him to his feet. Scott twisted out of Val's hands.

"We've got to get to Johnny!" Scott yelled.

"Murdoch's gone after him," Val said as he untied Scott's wrists.

They both turned as Murdoch opened the door to the line shack and was met by a wall of smoke. Murdoch ran into the building.

Scott pulled away from Val.

"Val, you don't understand," Scott screamed. "He's tied to the bed. Murdoch will never get him out in time."

..********

Val looked at Scott and then the line shack. Smoke was pouring out the now open door. Val pulled his boot knife and took off at a run. He hesitated only a second at the door before rushing in.

Across the room, Val saw Murdoch bend over the bed, picking Johnny up in his arms. Val held an arm over his eyes shielding them from the smoke and the heat of the flames. Not hesitating, Val ran to the bed.

"I've got him, Val," Murdoch yelled. "Let's get out of here."

Val let Murdoch go first as they ran from the building.

Outside, the men from Lancer waited for the sight of their boss. Scott had tried several times to follow his father and Val into the building only to be held back by Cipriano's firm hand.

Time stood still until finally the sight of Murdoch running out of the burning building, with Johnny in his arms, set them all in motion.

..********

Johnny had watched in horror as Dunbar emptied the lantern oil around the room and then threw a lighted match onto it.

As he struggled against the ropes that held him, Johnny tried calling out for help. The bandana stuffed in his mouth reduced his cries to nothing more than muffled sounds. Wide-eyed, he watched the building filling with smoke, and the flames start to grow.

As the flames spread across the floor and caught the wooden table on fire, Johnny tried controlling his panic. He'd always expected the end would come with the sound of gunfire and hot lead in his heart. He'd told Murdoch as much only months earlier when his lung had collapsed after Bixby, or Taggert as he was calling himself, tried to kill him.

Johnny fumbled with the knife Scott had given him. His hands were still swollen. It was hard to hold the knife and cut away at the rope.

As the smoke thickened, Johnny started coughing only to choke on the bandana stuffed in his mouth. His eyes were watering as he turned his head away from the smoke and heat of the flames. Breathing was getting harder. He knew the end would come long before the flames touched him, or so he prayed.

Johnny was willing to meet his fate in a gunfight. He wasn't ready to burn to death, helplessly tied to a bed. The rope was almost cut through when he felt a hand on his face. He looked up with tear-filled eyes to see his father kneeling beside him. Murdoch pulled the bandana from his mouth.

"Hold on, son. I'll get you out," Murdoch yelled over the rising sound of the fire behind him. Throwing the blanket back that covered his son, Murdoch could see the ropes holding Johnny down as well as the knife.

"Get out…, old man," Johnny coughed. "There isn't…time."

"I'm not leaving you," Murdoch growled as he grabbed the knife and finished cutting the rope.

Johnny felt the ropes fall away and Murdoch scoop him up in his arms. Only seconds later Val was beside the bed.

"I've got him, Val. Let's get out of here," Johnny heard his father say as he closed his eyes, his father's arms pulling him closer to his chest.

Johnny rolled his head into Murdoch's chest, hearing a whisper in his ear, "I've got you, son. Just hold on."

Only a slight nod told Murdoch that his youngest son had heard him before becoming limp in his arms.

The next thing Johnny knew fresh air was being forced into his lungs while someone wiped his face with a cold, wet cloth. Trying to focus his watery eyes, he found his brother leaning over him.

"Johnny? Stay with us, little brother," Scott said with a smile. "We're going to have you home in no time."

Johnny gave a weak nod before passing out again.

..********

When Sam stopped his buggy in front of the Lancer hacienda, he was met by Teresa and Maria. It hadn't taken him long to be brought up to date on what was happening.

Sam knew from experience that there was nothing he could do but wait for everyone to come home.

After spending the evening talking with Harlan, he understood why Murdoch didn't like the man. Every other word out of Harlan's mouth was something against Johnny or Lancer or the west in general.

By the time he excused himself for the night, Sam was ready for bed and to get away from Garrett.

..********

It was late morning when the first rider came into the yard. Jose had been sent ahead to let everyone know that Murdoch was coming and that he had Scott and Johnny with him.

Harlan stood on the veranda waiting for the man to say more. When Jose didn't say any more, Harlan spoke up, "Is Scotty alright?"

Jose nodded, "Si, senor. Senor Scott is alright. Juanito is hurt. El Patron didn't want to wait for a buckboard. He has Juanito riding double with him."

"What of the men that took my Grandson?" Harlan asked.

Jose frowned, "The men that took both the chicos are muerto…dead, Senor."

..********

Harlan stood at the French doors looking toward the arch. It had been almost thirty minutes since the vaquero named Jose had brought word that Scotty was on his way to the house. He couldn't bring himself to call this … this place Scotty's home. No, Scotty's home was in Boston. His Grandson didn't belong here. He belonged in Boston where he was safe from the violence of the west; safe from his half-brother.

Harlan would have laughed at the turn of events had Scotty not also been placed in danger. Belcher had tucked his tail between his legs and took off for parts unknown. The men Belcher hired were dead, which to Harlan's thinking, they deserved.

Movement beyond the arch caught Harlan's attention. At least a dozen riders were coming in fast. Behind them, Harlan could see four horses moving slower. He recognized Scotty immediately. Pushing both of the French doors open, he stepped onto the veranda.

Riding beside Scott, Harlan could see Murdoch with Johnny in front of him. On the other side of Murdoch rode Val and Cipriano.

As Murdoch came to a stop in front of the house, Scott threw himself out of the saddle and with Val and Cipriano's help lowered Johnny down.

Murdoch dismounted and lifted Johnny in his arms, carrying him into the house.

Harlan stepped forward to take Scott's arm as the young man started to follow Murdoch into the house.

"Scotty," Harlan pulled Scott's arm so that his Grandson was forced to face him, "are you alright?"

Scott blinked recognizing his grandfather. He turned his head back toward the house and the retreating back of his father.

"Not now, Grandfather," Scott said pushing Harlan's arm away. "I need to be with Johnny."

"Scotty, Murdoch is seeing to the boy," Harlan retook Scott's arm. "I need to know if you're alright."

Scott nodded, "I'm alright, Grandfather. It was Johnny who was hurt. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be in there."

Scott jerked his arm away and walked into the house, leaving Harlan standing alone on the veranda.

Frowning, Harlan followed the others into the house.

Harlan stood in the middle of the Great Room, watching everyone follow Murdoch upstairs.

"Is he going to be alright," Murdoch asked as Sam entered the kitchen by the back stairs.

"I think so," Sam answered. "He took in some smoke. He's still coughing. It's going to take a few days to clear his lungs."

Sam looked around the room at the haggard men. Val sat slumped in a chair with his head lying on the table. Scott leaned against the sink drinking a cup of coffee. Murdoch was also seated, trying to stifle a cough. They all smelled of smoke.

"Why don't all of you go take a bath and put on clean clothes? Then I want you to get some sleep. Johnny is resting quietly now," Sam informed them.

"What about the knife wound?" Scott asked as he straightened up. "It looked like it was infected."

Sam nodded, "It is infected. I've cleaned it as well as the wounds on his wrists. He's running a fever, but it isn't high right now. What I'm most concerned about right now are his hands."

Those words brought Val's head up off the table. "What about his hands, Sam?"

"His hands are swollen. I would imagine from being tied too tightly," Sam answered.

Scott nodded. "That's right, Sam. Dunbar tied his wrists so tight that it cut off the circulation. When I convinced the man to untie Johnny, his hands were blue and swollen twice their normal size. They aren't as bad now as they were in the beginning."

Sam wiped a hand over his face and took a deep breath. "There may be some nerve damage. We'll need to wait and see. I expect the swelling to go away in a day or two."

"Nerve damage?" Val was on his feet. "Doc, are you saying Johnny might have problems using his hands?"

Sam instantly understood what Val was saying. He looked at Murdoch and Scott, who were both now moving toward him.

"Hold on." Sam held up a hand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I said he might, might have nerve damage. I want his wrists to heal before he starts flexing his hand and fingers."

Val lowered his head and took a deep breath, "Sam, there's another gunhawk in town. Came in yesterday."

"Val, Johnny isn't going to be able to face anyone for some time, even if his hands weren't damaged," Sam responded.

"I'm going to clean up and then sit with him," Murdoch said as he started for the stairs.

"Murdoch, he's asleep, which is where you need to be," Sam said to Murdoch's back as he disappeared at the head of the stairs.

Turning around, he looked at Scott and Val. "I don't expect either of you will listen to me

any more than Murdoch did?"

Val nodded, "I need a bath and some sleep." Turning to Scott, he asked, "Scott, you got any clothes I can borrow… anything without ruffles that is?"

Scott laughed, "I think I have something without ruffles, Val. Come on."

Taking hold of Val's arm, Scott pushed him toward the stairs. Val put one foot in front of the other as he and Scott went upstairs.

..********

"Well, how is he?" Val asked as he strolled into the Great Room and headed straight to the drink cart. Everyone knew that the 'he' Val referred to was Johnny.

"He's just fine," a voice from the top of the stairs caused everyone to jump. Val almost dropped the glass he was holding.

"Damn it, boy, don't do that," Val growled.

"Sorry, Papi," Johnny said as he made his way down the stairs.

"Should you be out of bed?" Val asked watching his friend's slow movements.

"No, he shouldn't," Sam spoke up. "However, keeping him in bed has turned into a lost cause."

"Is that so?" Val looked at Johnny, frowning.

"Stop fussing, all of you," Johnny responded as he lowered himself onto the sofa. "Can I have one of those?" Johnny nodded to the drink in Val's hand.

Val looked at Murdoch and Scott; both were shaking their heads 'no.' Looking at Sam, he saw the doctor glaring at him. Val laughed, then looked back at Johnny. "No. Don't think so."

"Why not?" Johnny asked with a pout.

"'Cause I ain't takin' on both your Pa and your big brother and I'm sure not fool enough to take on Sam," Val laughed.

Johnny looked around the room. He knew he'd lost, so there was no need to fight. They weren't going to let him have a drink until Sam said it was alright.

"What have you found out?" Johnny asked leaning his head back, closing his eyes. He had to admit the trip down the stairs had worn him out.

Murdoch spoke up before Val could answer, "Belcher's gone. Dunbar and the others are dead, and we still aren't any closer to finding out who is behind this than we were in the beginning." The frustration was evident in his voice.

"We know something we didn't know before," Val stated as he took a sip of his drink. "We know whoever it is, ain't gonna' give up." He gave Johnny a knowing look.

Johnny stood up and walked across the room. He looked out the picture window behind Murdoch's desk much like Murdoch had done a thousand times before. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The knife wound across his ribs was throbbing.

Johnny knew who was behind everything, but he couldn't say it aloud. There was one person he cared about that could be hurt if he was wrong or even if he was right. He didn't want Scott hurt.

Lowering his head, he turned back to the men in the room. They were all looking at him for answers. He didn't have any for them, none that he could say aloud.

Johnny looked at Val, knowing he'd come to the same conclusion.

"Johnny, there's something else," Val took a deep breath. "There's a gunhawk in town."

Johnny looked down, putting his wrists out in front of him. They were still raw and painful. His right hand was feeling better, but it still hurt when he flexed his fingers.

"Absolutely, not!" Sam was on his feet.

"Don't worry, Sam," Johnny laughed. "I'm not going to face anyone until I'm ready."

There was a relieved look on Sam's face. Johnny turned to look at Val and noticed his eyes had narrowed. Val knew it wasn't that easy.

Before Val could speak again, Johnny looked at Scott, "Where's your abuelo?"

"Grandfather is packing," Scott answered. "He told me this morning he had business in San Francisco. I'm taking him to catch the stage this afternoon."

There was a brief smile on Johnny's face that he hoped Scott hadn't seen.

Sam quickly looked around the room and moved forward. "Johnny, I want you to lay down for a while. You've been on your feet too long."

Sam's statement seemed to awaken everyone in the room. Murdoch moved forward and took Johnny's elbow. "Sam's right, John. You need to be in bed."

Johnny didn't argue as he moved toward the stairs.

..********

Harlan put the last of his things in his suitcase. Everything was packed and ready to go. He couldn't wait to get going. Lancer was now the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Harlan sat down to rethink his strategy. Years ago, he had Belcher hire Judd Haney to take over Lancer. The goal then was to get his beloved Catherine to return to Boston. That had gone terribly wrong, and he'd lost his daughter. He had, however, gained a grandson.

As Scott got older and voiced his intentions to reach out to his father, Garrett knew he had to act. Wilson was called upon to hire Day Pardee.

Harlan shook his head and snorted. Pardee had been a complete waste of money. Murdoch Lancer had prevailed again, that time with the help of his half-breed son and Scott. Worse, Scott's life had been put in danger.

When Pardee was killed, Harlan changed his focus. Now, he was obsessed with one thing; one thing only. He would take Murdoch's half-breed son from him and then destroy the ranch. He was convinced that with nothing left in California for Scotty, the boy would return to Boston and his real home.

He'd sent Belcher to take up where Wilson left off. Now Belcher had failed him.

All of his plans had failed. Harlan Garrett was now stumped as to how to get his grandson back to Boston. At this point, he was ready to take a gun and just shoot the half-breed himself.

Harlan paced the room, making another decision. He would leave for now and take care of the business he had in San Francisco.

Harlan Garrett always got what he wanted. At the moment, what he wanted more than anything was to see Johnny Madrid dead.

Harlan walked to the window and looked out over Lancer. The next time he came face to face with Madrid, it would be Harlan Garrett who would be dealing out death. He would no longer rely on others. Madrid was going to die and by his hand.

..********

"John, do you need a coat?" Murdoch's voice carried across the still night air.

Johnny smiled, looking over his shoulder. "No, I'm fine. Stop worrying."

Murdoch walked out to stand next to his son. Looking up at the crystal-clear night sky; a crescent moon was edging its way over the mountain range to the east.

A few quiet minutes passed before they heard someone else coming out of the house. Scott walked out of the house holding three glasses. Father and son smiled as Scott handed them each a drink.

"Beautiful night," Scott said with a smile.

"That it is," Johnny answered softly.

It had been two weeks since Scott took Harlan to catch the stage. Two quiet weeks in which the ranch had gotten back to a normal routine, much to everyone's relief.

Val rode in four days after Harlan left to tell them the gunfighter who had been in town was gone. Johnny didn't ask any questions; he just gave Val a nod. He was sure Val had made it clear to the gunhawk that there wasn't a future for him in Green River.

The next day Scott received a telegram from his grandfather. Harlan planned to stay in San Francisco for a few weeks before returning to Lancer. The news was received with mixed emotions.

Neither Johnny nor Val had mentioned their suspicions of Harlan's involvement with Belcher. Johnny made it plain to Val that he would protect his brother by keeping the knowledge a secret as long as he could. When Scott did find out, Johnny prayed his big brother would forgive the deceit.

Murdoch stood between his two sons watching the moon continue to rise. He couldn't help himself, putting an arm around each of them, he pulled his sons closer. Neither of the younger men resisted. Murdoch thought he even heard a sigh.

"Look," Murdoch lifted his right arm from around Scott and pointed to a giant ball of light making its way across the velvety black sky.

"A shooting star," Murdoch said with a smile on his face. He looked at Johnny's face and then Scott's. Neither were smiling.

Johnny dipped his head.

"What's wrong, son?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Johnny answered. He looked back up at the dark sky and the stars that graced it.

"Scott?" Murdoch turned to his oldest son.

"Just something Johnny and I talked about once," Scott answered, looking up again as another ball of light streaked across the southern sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Scott looked sideways at his little brother. "All shooting stars are beautiful, don't you think?"

Scott smiled when he realized Johnny was looking at him.

"Yes," Murdoch answered, as he watched yet another ball of light move overhead. "It's beautiful and sad at the same time."

"Sad?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, sad," Murdoch answered. "When you think of how long that meteor has been up there. It gives us a few moments of beauty as it blazes across the sky, then it falls to earth. My Da always called them falling stars, not shooting stars."

"Falling star," Johnny said biting his lower lip; letting the meaning sink in.

..********

Scott and Johnny were standing at the corral when they saw a rider coming under the arch. Leon Fergus was making his way slowly toward them.

Scott looked at his brother's bowed head.

Grasping the top rail of the corral, Johnny sighed deeply, then pushed off and turned toward the house before Leon came to a stop.

Leon sat on his horse, head down. He looked at Johnny's retreating back and then at Scott. The boy didn't say a word as he pulled a single piece of paper from his shirt, handing it to Scott.

Scott looked at the offering and then at Leon, who only nodded before turning his horse, riding back the way he'd come.

Seeing Leon ride in, Cipriano was already moving toward Scott. He looked at the Patron's oldest son and then at the folded paper he was holding.

Scott didn't need to read it. As Johnny said, it didn't matter what was written. What mattered was what it meant.

"Cipriano?" Scott spoke up, breaking the silence between them.

"Si," Cipriano answered. "Senor Scott, I will get the 'chosen' ready to ride.

"Gracias, Cipriano," Scott answered with a nod. "I'll tell Murdoch."

Cipriano hurried off toward the bunkhouse leaving Scott alone in the yard. He still grasped the paper in his hand; a piece of paper that told of another gunfighter in town, another man who wanted to see his brother dead.

Frustrated, Scott crumpled the unread note into a ball. Taking a deep breath, he opened his fist. The image of burning points of light, streaking across a velvety night sky came to mind.

The sound of jingling spurs caught Scott's attention. Turning toward the French doors, his breath hitched.

Framed in the doorway stood his dark-haired brother, dressed in a salmon-colored shirt and black calzoneras, strapping on his gun belt.

With his right hand resting on the butt of his Colt, Johnny's blue eyes met Scott's. No words were needed between them. Scott understood.

Johnny had been right. Those blazing balls of fire, burning in the night sky were like pistoleros. The best and the brightest of them was Johnny Madrid; a shooting star, streaking across the heavens, nothing standing in his way.

End

March 2019


End file.
